Hermione's Haven Bingo 2019 Series
by crochetaway
Summary: An anthology series of 25 one-shots starring Hermione Granger with a variety of partners in a variety of settings. They range in content from general to romantic to tragedy to family. Complete.
1. Until Tonight

**Welcome to another Hermione-centric anthology! There are 25 one-shots in this series. Over 30k words, and all starring my main squeeze, Hermione! They range from smutty (like the one below) to tragedy to sweet, and everything in between. For this event we were given a bingo card filled with pairings, prompts, quotes, etc. and then tasked with writing a story about it. The Hermione's Haven FB group hosted the event and the modmins over there are amazing for always putting on such excellent, quality events. These range in length from drabble to full-blown one-shots. This series is rated M as you'll no doubt see in a moment. My plan is to have them all cross-posted here by the end of the month! Hopefully one a day until I get it done, but I'm also traveling a bit this month, so we'll see. **

**Created for Hermione's Haven Bingo 2019 Fest! This is for my B1 square which was the prompt: Clothed Sex.**

**No beta, just Grammarly. If you love this (or hate it) please let me know about in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff.**

**Pairing: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy**

**Rating: M**

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**Until Tonight**

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"Merlin, Mary, and Joseph," Hermione groaned as Draco's cock hit that perfect spot inside her. Draco's hand was pressed to the middle of her back, underneath her shirt, pressing her to his desk. His hand was hot against her skin and she squirmed slightly.

"Invoking the Muggle gods," Draco panted, "must be doing something right."

"Shut up and fuck me," Hermione groaned as Draco reached a hand around her hip, pushing her skirt out of the way to begin thumbing her clit.

Draco's laugh was low as his pace increased in time with what his hand was doing her to clit and Hermione was lost to the bliss that was her climax. Dimly, she heard Draco groan behind her as he came. He collapsed into his chair and pulled her into his lap.

Hermione pressed her ear to his chest, listening to his heart thump wildly for a few moments before gradually slowing.

"Good, wife?" Draco asked, brushing the hair back from her face.

Hermione grinned up at him, his grey eyes crinkled at the corners as he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. Hermione hummed into the kiss, wrapping an arm around his neck and pulling him close.

"Mr Malfoy?" someone shouted through the door while knocking. "Mr Malfoy your 1.30 is here. Are you stil—"

"Hang on, Esther!" Draco shouted, breaking the kiss. "I think our time is up, wife."

Hermione smirked and reached for her wand, lying askew on Draco's desk. A few flicks and they were both set to rights.

"Until tonight, husband," Hermione said sultrily. She pecked the corner of his mouth and as she turned around, Draco smacked her bum.

"Can't wait," he murmured just as she sauntered out of his door and down the hall to her own office.

_**~Fin~**_


	2. New Orleans

**Created for Hermione's Haven Bingo 2019 Fest! This is for my B2 square which was the quote: 'There's something strange going on to the south of here. It's been messing with my magic for the last few days.'**

**This is a Modern AU with Tom Riddle as being an American with a delicious southern drawl.**

**No beta, just Grammarly. If you love this (or hate it) please let me know about in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff.**

**Pairing: Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle**

**Rating: T**

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**New Orleans**

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Hermione shook her wand even as she felt the Transfiguration spell go wrong. The cat she was attempting to Transfigure into a breadbox half-transformed. There was still a tail and Hermione was pretty sure it just meowed.

"Professor Granger? Something wrong?" Professor Riddle asked in a southern drawl that almost had her shivering. Hermione frowned at her colleague.

"There's something strange going on to the south of here. It's been messing with my magic for the last few days," Hermione said. She frowned and reversed the spell on the cat. The orange calico returned to its usual form and gave Hermione a baleful eye.

"Sorry, boy," Hermione muttered, patting his head.

"What do you mean?" Professor Riddle asked. He had crossed the Transfigurations lab and approached the table Hermione was working at. Hermione still had a hard time with his accent, it dripped and drawled like hot fudge on ice cream and she could listen to him talk all day long.

"That's a sixth-year spell," Hermione said. "Or I guess you'd call it junior year here. I'm a Transfiguration's Mistress, I should be able to complete sixth-year spells in my sleep. And yet, it didn't work? Why?"

"Why do you think something is going on in the south?" Riddle asked. His dark blue eyes peered into hers and Hermione ignored the fluttering of her heart. He was just a colleague. _Just a colleague_, she reminded herself over and over again. She was a visiting professor at the wizarding side of the University of Mississippi, or as the locals called it Ole Miss.

"I'm not sure," Hermione shook her head. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, focusing on the magic in the world around her. Magic was finicky, but from the theoretical classes Hermione had taken when she was at university, she knew that while wizards had magical cores they could draw from, those cores were then filled by magic in the surrounding ley lines. Some places had more magic than others. It's why the ancient standing stones in the British Isles were still used with such frequency even in modern times. It's why even the Muggles were drawn to ancient sites. The residual, natural magic acted as a magnet or homing beacon for all humans.

Focusing on the surrounding magic, she could feel a tug and pull from the south. It both called to her and repelled her. It wasn't something she'd come across before and she couldn't actually pinpoint to when it started, but she'd been in Oxford, Mississippi, where Ole Miss was located for going on six months. She was halfway through her year of research.

"Can't you feel it?" Hermione asked, popping her eyes open. She was startled to see that Riddle had moved around the table and was standing right before her, almost too close for propriety's sake. He was still staring at her with a gaze that felt like it pierced Hermione's soul.

"I can't," Riddle replied. "How is it you 'feel' it?"

"Do you know anything about Magical Theory?" Hermione asked, pursing her lips. How could he not know this? It was part of every Transfiguration curriculum in Europe. Maybe it was a Yank thing?

Riddle shook his head. "I didn't take any Magical Theory classes in University," he shrugged, "they weren't required."

"Really? So you're taught that magic works just because it does? What an absurd notion." Hermione shook her head and then launched into a lecture about how magical cores and ley lines functioned. "It's unlikely you will be able to feel anything without several weeks of intense meditation," she concluded. "Are there any Magical Theorists at the University?"

It was Riddle's turn to purse his lips. He seemed to lean even closer to her. "Only Professor Lestrange, although she's a little...odd."

"Right, well, none of my experiments are going to go well if I can't make my magic work. I'll either need to speak with her or head south to figure out where the disturbance is coming from."

"New Orleans," Riddle said.

"What about it?" Hermione knew of the city, but she had yet had time to take the three hundred and fifty mile trip down there.

"That's likely where the source is coming from. It's the greatest convergence of ley lines in the area." Hermione shook her head, it still shocked her at how big a country America was. Three hundred and fifty miles in Britain would get you most of the way from Hogwarts to London. Here, it was considered 'in the area.'

"You know about ley lines, but nothing about Magical Theory?" Hermione questioned. Riddle just shrugged his shoulders.

"Let's go down there," he suggested.

"To New Orleans?" Hermione asked, half-incredulous. "Now?"

Riddle looked at his wristwatch. "It's almost five in the afternoon on a Friday. We can be down there by ten this evening, find a hotel in the magical quarter and either see if we can pinpoint the location of the disturbance or speak with wizards in the area to see if they've noticed anything."

"Why wouldn't we just Floo MACUSA?" Hermione asked. "Let the authorities handle it."

"Is that what you do in England?" Riddle asked, cocking his head to the side. He had a faint smirk playing about the corners of his lips. "How quaint."

Hermione blinked at him. She had stopped breathing at the look he was giving her and had to mentally kick herself to get her breathing going again. She bit her lip as she thought over his proposal. Actually, in Britain, she probably would attempt to investigate it herself, she was a Gryffindor after all, but she'd become more cautious as an adult and she was in a foreign country. The idea of spending five hours in a car with Riddle both terrified and exhilarated her.

"Alright," Hermione said, making up her mind. "Let's do it."

_**~Fin~**_


	3. The Bath

**Created for Hermione's Haven Bingo 2019 Fest! This is for myB3 square which was the prompt: Romance.**

**No beta, just Grammarly. If you love this (or hate it) please let me know about in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff.**

**The lovely Adharablack85-2 hoped that Thormione was coming up, so here you are, darling! And there is definitely more Thormione in this collection!**

**Pairing: Hermione Granger/Thorfinn Rowle**

**Rating: T**

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**The Bath**

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Hermione sighed, opening the door of her flat with a flick of her wand. It had been a long day at work and a longer week. She was exhausted and just wanted to either curl up with a book on her sofa or take a hot bath. Thinking on it further, a bath was sounding better and better.

"Hey Crooks," she called out as soon as she entered. She dropped her handbag on the table in the entryway and took off her cloak, hanging it on a peg near the door. She kicked off her shoes and bent down to scratch Crookshanks between the ears before moving further into her flat when she stopped in her tracks. There was a giant bouquet of tulips of every color standing on the small table in her breakfast nook. Also, she was noticing that the candles were all lit.

"Finn?" she shouted as she fingered the tulips on the table. They always had been her favorite flower.

"Back here, love," he replied from deeper in the flat. She smiled at his words and headed back toward her bedroom. She and Finn hadn't been dating that long, but he had a romantic streak in him a mile wide. Hermione would never have guessed it just by looking at him. He was a hulking man, standing well above most wizards, and muscular from his years slugging bludgers around the Quidditch pitch. She always did have a thing for Quidditch players.

Her bedroom was empty, but there was light spilling out from the en suite bathroom. Inside, Finn was adding some final touches to what looked like a lovely hot bath.

"Is that for me?" Hermione asked, looking longingly at the bathtub.

"Mmm-hmm," Finn confirmed with a hum and a nod. He stood from where he had been kneeling before the bath and gathered her in his arms. "I knew you had a long week. I figured instead of going out tonight, we could stay in."

"Sounds good to me," Hermione murmured into his chest as she wrapped her arms around him. He gave the best hugs. She took a few deep breaths and then felt his hands begin to wander. They pulled her blouse from her skirt and Hermione stepped back just enough to begin unbuttoning it.

Finn knocked her hands away. "Let me," he said, in a deep rumbling voice. Hermione shivered in anticipation as his fingers quickly and nimbly unbuttoned her blouse. He pushed it from her shoulders. His fingers trailed along her shoulders and down her arms and Hermione sighed. A few more moments like this and she was going to be putty in his hands. Finn flicked her bra open and drew the straps down her arms. He didn't even attempt to touch her nipples, although Hermione was feeling mildly turned on as he undressed her. He helped her out of her skirt and knickers before leading her to the oversized bathtub and helping her into it.

"Relax or wash first?" Finn asked as he kneeled next to the tub.

"Relax," Hermione replied.

Finn grinned. "I thought you'd say that. So which would you like to get caught up on?" He held up a couple of academic journals that Hermione subscribed too.

"Oh! Potions Monthly, there's an article in there this month about a new trial of Wolfsbane I've been meaning to read."

Instead of handing her the magazine though, he settled himself onto the floor next to the bath and opened the journal to the correct page. Then he began to read to her in his deep, rumbling voice and Hermione leaned back in the tub, closing her eyes listening to him. They hadn't been dating long, but Merlin, Hermione could get used to this.

_**~Fin~**_


	4. Pie

**Created for Hermione's Haven Bingo 2019 Fest! This is for my B4 square which was the prompt: Muffliato. No beta, just Grammarly. If you love this (or hate it) please let me know about in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff.**

**Pairing: Hermione Granger/George Weasley/Fred Weasley**

**Rating: M**

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**Pie**

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"And then—" George shouted.

"Good Godric, you two are loud," Hermione complained as she entered the Burrow's kitchen. Fred and George were seated at the table, discussing their latest line of products. It was the day after Boxing Day and most of the occupants of the Burrow were asleep, with it being almost one in the morning.

"Granger," Fred grinned at her. "Come for a slice of pie?" He wiggled his eyebrows at her, indicating the half-empty pie-tin on the table between them.

"I did, but are you eating directly out of the dish?" Hermione frowned.

"Tastes better that way," George replied.

"You need to work on your silencing charms," Hermione muttered as she crossed the kitchen to get a fork from the drawer.

"Nuh-uh." Fred shook his head. "Mum's suspicious of silencing charms. She feels them go up and immediately goes to investigate."

Hermione snorted. "Of course she does. Good woman, Molly Weasley." She slid into the seat between Fred and George and took a forkful of Molly's sinful chocolate pie.

"Are you eating directly out of the dish?" George asked in his most scandalous tone.

"Tastes better that way," Hermione grinned.

"Cheeky, that one," Fred said to George above Hermione's head. She rolled her eyes and picked up the piece of parchment they were discussing, reading it over.

"You know," Hermione said, suddenly remembering something. "There's another spell that might work better than a silencing charm."

"Oh? What spell is that?" George asked. He forked a bite of pie and plopped it into his mouth. A small bit of crust stuck to the corner of his lip. Hermione had a sudden fantasy of licking it off for him and she shook her head, turning back to face the table.

"_Muffliato_," Hermione said, giving her wand a little twirl. Instantly, the sound of murmured conversation surrounded them.

"What is that?" Fred asked, looking around. "What's it sound like on the other side?"

"Same thing," Hermione said. "But it keeps what's in the bubble private, without the noticeable effects of a silencing spell.

"Wicked," the twins both said at the same time. "You come up with that?" George asked.

Hermione laughed. "No, that would be Professor Snape. Don't ask me how I know, it's a long story," Hermione muttered.

"Brilliant," Fred grinned down at her and Hermione found herself blushing. She looked away and suddenly felt too close to both Fred and George.

"You know," George said, placing a hand on the back of Hermione's chair, his fingers brushing against her shoulder.

"We could take the pie upstairs," Fred replied, landing a hand on her thigh.

Hermione licked her lip but didn't say anything. She was holding her breath.

"And really give this spell a try," George finished. He was so close, she could feel his hot breath tickle her ear.

She should say something, she knew she should say something, but she felt decidedly tongue-tied as Fred's hands traced patterns on her thigh and George trailed his fingers up and down her arm.

"What do you say, Granger?" Fred asked. He had his face practically buried in her air. "Should we test the limits of your spell?" Hermione knew he was asking a different question.

"Yes," she whispered.

"Brilliant," George and Fred said at the same time. As if it were a concerted movement, they both stood. A flick of Fred's wand and the pie was put away and the twins hustled her out of the kitchen and up to their room.

They had proved quite decidedly by morning, just how well the Muffliato spell worked.

"Were you guys up all night?" Ginny complained at breakfast the following morning. "I could hear you talking all night."

"Mmm, Granger was helping us with some product improvements," George said absentmindedly as his hand tracked up her inner thigh.

"She was quite insightful, weren't you?" Fred asked from her other side.

"Quite, hopefully you take my suggestions into account," Hermione responded as primly as she was able to with George's fingers slowly infiltrating her knickers.

_**~Fin~**_


	5. The Art of Journaling

**Created for Hermione's Haven Bingo 2019 Fest! This is for my B5 square which was James Potter as a pairing. No beta, just Grammarly. If you love this (or hate it) please let me know about in a review!**

**Pairing: Hermione Granger/James Potter**

**Rating: T**

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**The Art of Journaling**

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Hermione Granger didn't mean to fall in love with James Potter. It just sort of happened. Well, that's also not quite true. What happened was she found his journals in 12 Grimmauld Place. Who knew that James Potter kept journals? And how in the world had Sirius ended up with them at 12 Grimmauld Place? That whole timeline seemed rather fuzzy to Hermione, but perhaps it was Remus who ended up with the journals, who then shared them with Sirius? Which is how they ended up in London.

How they got there was way less important than what was inside. Inside, was a man Hermione found herself drawn to. He spoke so rawly of his love for his family and friends. His emotions were so clear, right there on the surface, she found herself reading them over and over and over again. She knew that she should give them to Harry. They weren't hers, and Harry had always known less about his father than he had his mother. But, Hermione felt selfishly protective of them. Like Harry wouldn't be able to appreciate them in the same way that Hermione had.

And then there was the bit in the seventh journal. The one that covered the years just after Hogwarts and before he had married Lily. Yes, that's right, years. See, Hermione had always been under the impression that James and Lily had married right after Hogwarts, in the summer of 1978. But according to James Potter's journal, he didn't marry Lily until January of 1980. Which meant that Lily was already pregnant with Harry at that point.

In the summer of 1978, James had moved into an apartment in Diagon Alley with Sirius and Remus. And apparently, he dated a woman during that time period. Someone he only identified as J. Someone who very clearly wasn't Lily. And the things James wrote about J had Hermione's heart beating fast and hard. And if she was honest with herself, it had her knickers damp and her core aching. Who knew that James Potter was a master of writing some of the sexiest things Hermione had ever read?

But the sexual encounters he detailed in his journals were not what made Hermione fall in love with him. It was his poetry. The way he weaved his words with such strong emotions and feelings… Hermione knew it in her bones that she'd never find another man who evoked such incredible feelings in her as James Potter's writing did.

She felt sad knowing she would never meet him. Never be able to talk to him. And worse, she was starting to feel jealous of J and even Lily. Although, his later journals prove that his feelings toward Lily were a fraction of what he felt toward J. Lily was the woman he'd pined after as a teenager, but who spurned him. When J disappeared—James was sure she'd been killed by Voldemort—he'd turned to Lily in need of comfort. One bout of comfort sex and they were getting married just months later.

Hermione wished she knew more about who J was. She wished she could meet the woman who inspired such words from James, but like James, J too was lost to the past.

It wasn't until Hermione found the Time-Turner in the bottom of her trunk that a plan began to formulate in her head. True, the Time-Turner only went a few hours back into the past, but Hermione had found that adding a ring or two to the Time-Turner would solve that issue. Another benefit of living in 12 Grimmauld Place: access to Dark and dangerous texts that normally she'd never even know existed. It was one of those books that detailed how early Time-Turners were created. And how easy it was to modify existing Time-Turners. No wonder the Ministry had banned that book. It _was _dangerous if you didn't know what you were doing. Luckily, Hermione was confident in her abilities. She just needed to add two rings to the Time-Turner. One for years, and another for decades.

Unsurprisingly, at least to Hermione, it only took her a week to create the rings and add them to the Time-Turner. Now, with her beefed-up Time-Turner, Hermione was ready. She hadn't actively _thought_ about what her plan was, but she knew how far back she needed to go: twenty-one years should do it. It was the summer of 1999 now, which would put her back to the summer of 1978. Right when James had met J.

Without giving it too much thought, Hermione Apparated to Diagon Alley. She ducked down a side alley, one not traveled much and pulled out the Time-Turner she had tucked into her blouse. Taking one last deep breath, Hermione turned the rings the appropriate number of times. Twice on the decade ring and once on the year ring. Traveling back a few hours was disorienting. Traveling back decades was positively nauseating. By the time the world slowed around her, Hermione was on her knees, vomiting the contents of her stomach onto the ground.

She staggered to her feet and Scourgified the ground. Needing to be sure of _when_ she was, Hermione stumbled out into Diagon Alley proper. And promptly ran right into someone else, so hard that she would have fallen onto her arse if the other person's quick reflexes hadn't stopped her.

Firm hands grasped her arms above her elbows.

"Are you alright?" a lovely, deep voice asked her. She stared up into a pair of eyes that were the most brilliant shade of hazel. She felt she could lose herself in them. "I'm James," the man murmured.

Hermione realized exactly who it was that had caught her. She made a snap decision. One that would probably haunt her for years to come, but at that moment, she didn't think about the future consequences of her decision. "Hi, I'm Jean."

James smiled at her, his face transformatively handsome and Hermione knew her fate was sealed.

_**~Fin~**_


	6. My Perfect Family

**Created for Hermione's Haven Bingo 2019 Fest! This is for my G1 square which was the prompt: Family.**

**No beta, just Grammarly. If you love this (or hate it) please let me know about in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff.**

**Pairing: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter/Ron Weasley**

**Rating: M**

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**My Perfect Family**

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_The third morning Hermione threw up in the toilet she knew that it wasn't just the flu. She knew there was a charm, but honestly, she hadn't really paid attention when Madam Pomfrey had shown them last year. Back then, she'd been single, with no hope of getting closer to her object of affection. She figured it would something she'd deal with later, after the war. _

_The war wasn't over and now Hermione found herself in a position she didn't think she'd be in for at least another decade. It was Ron's turn for watch and Harry was wearing the locket. It would be easier to fool Ron. She cleaned herself up and despite the nauseating feeling that invaded her senses, she stood, getting dressed in a hurry. She dug through her beaded bag until she came across the handful of Muggle bills she had stuffed in there. They were depleted, but Hermione was pretty sure she had enough for what she needed._

_Harry was sleeping fitfully in the corner and Hermione slipped out of the tent. She smiled softly at Ron._

"_Going to try and find something to eat," Hermione said, indicated the forest around them._

"_Need help?" Ron asked as he scrambled to his feet._

_Hermoine shook her head. "You stay here for watch. Harry's sleeping."_

"_Right," Ron nodded. He crossed the small clearing and pulled Hermione in close for a hug. Hermione buried her nose into his chest. He smelled of just Ron. Of home and comfort and safety. But she had to know. She'd be quick about it and disguise her hair. Nobody would see her._

"_Be back in a bit," Hermione said, kissing the corner of his mouth. _

_She slipped outside of the wards she had erected and walked to the nearest tree. Transfiguring a dull-red ribbon out of a broken branch on the ground, she wrapped it around the trunk to give her a mark of where the tent was and walked through the woods until she was out of hearing distance. She Apparated away as quietly as she could manage._

_The Muggle town she'd chosen specifically because she knew it was sleepy and she remembered the Muggle chemist shop, having gone there once with her mum when they'd been on vacation in the area. _

_She had just enough money to purchase the test. "Good luck," the clerk called after her as she rushed out of the store. Hermione slipped around the side of the building and the moment she was sure she was alone, she Apparated back to the forest. She couldn't have been gone longer than twenty minutes or so, but the entire time, her heart had been beating wildly in her chest. _

_The ribbon was still in place at the tree and Hermione pulled it off, ending the transfiguration charm on it before dropping the stick to the ground again. She slipped back through the wards, startling Ron. He had stood, and pointed his wand in her direction before Hermione pushed her hood off her face._

"_Hey," she smiled at him._

"_That was quick," Ron frowned. _

"_Yeah, I, uh, forgot something in the tent." Hermione couldn't believe she hadn't thought to actually go and look for food. "Be right back."_

_She hurried to the small loo in the tent and closed the door tightly. It was the only room in the tent that was actually closed off. Harry had still been on the bed when she had hurried in. She hoped he was still asleep._

_Hermione flicked her fingers against her thigh as she counted down the seconds in her head, waiting for the test to be complete. She didn't look at it. She couldn't look at it. Mostly, she really, really hoped it would say it was negative. _

_Finally, three hundred seconds had passed and Hermione opened her eyes. Two lines. She scrambled for the package. Two lines meant pregnant. _

"_Oh, Merlin," she murmured, feeling sick to her stomach again. Oh, fuck, what was she going to do? She was in the middle of a war! She couldn't tell Harry and Ron, they'd make her stay back. They wouldn't let her fight. Or… shit. Even worse. She had no idea whose child it was. Spending hours and hours together alone in a tent...well who could blame them? They were teenagers and scared all of the time. They took comfort in each other. _

"_Hermione?" Harry called from outside the bathroom. Hermione opened the door to face him. It's not like she could hide it. They would figure it out. _

"_Hey," Hermione nodded at him. "Uh, can you get Ron? I, um, I have something I should tell you."_

_Harry furrowed his brow, but nodded and left the tent. He returned moments later with Ron._

"_What's going on, Hermione?" Ron asked as he led her over to the small table in the kitchen area of the tent. They sat in the chairs and Hermione clasped her hands tightly in her lap._

"_I didn't think it could happen," Hermione whispered. "My period has been irregular since Dolohov cursed me, and Madam Pomfrey had thought that perhaps the curse made me infertile, but…"_

"_Wait, are you saying you're pregnant?" Harry asked._

_Hermione nodded, still gazing at her hands, unable to look up at them._

"_Blimey," Ron swore. He settled one of his large hands on her back, rubbing it slightly, and Hermione felt her entire body relax._

"_Hey," Harry said, reaching forward and grasping one of her hands. "Look at me."_

_Gathering all of her Gryffindor courage, Hermione chanced a look up to see that he was grinning at her. "I've always wanted a family."_

"_But, I don't know—"_

"_It doesn't matter," Ron said from the other side. "The three of us have always been family. It doesn't matter whose kid it is. It's ours. All of ours."_

_That's when Hermione burst into tears. Harry and Ron both comforted her, but neither could keep their grins to themselves. Hermione was just so relieved that they weren't mad at her. She was even more relieved when she realized they weren't going to make her leave them._

"_You have to stay with us," Harry said. "You belong with us. I don't want you off somewhere where I can't protect you. Where I can't be with you." _

"_I'm in complete agreement," Ron replied. _

_That night, they took her to bed and showed her just how much they wanted her to stay with them._

A year later, and the memory was less bittersweet. Hermione lifted her head from the Pensieve and settled back onto the sofa.

"Hey," Harry said, propping his shoulder against the doorway. "You alright?"

"Yeah," Hermione nodded, smiling. Even though she could feel the tears tracking down her cheeks. "Yeah, I think I am."

"Good," Harry smiled. He crossed the room and helped her stand. It was getting harder, the further along she was in this second pregnancy. "Good," he said again and kissed first her forehead, then her lips.

"Starting without me?" Ron asked from the doorway. Hermione didn't pull away from Harry, she just waved Ron over to join them.

"Love you," Hermione said as Harry began kissing down the column of her throat.

"Love you too," Ron replied, his hands making quick work of her blouse, cupping her growing belly. "Love all three of you."

Harry grinned at them. "My perfect family," he murmured, pressing a kiss first to Ron's lips, then Hermione's. Hermione hummed her agreement. It was perfect.

_**~Fin~**_


	7. The Perks of Being Prefect

**Created for Hermione's Haven Bingo 2019 Fest! This is for my G2 square which was the prompt: Mixophilia (a fancy word for voyeurism). No beta, just Grammarly. If you love this (or hate it) please let me know about in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff.**

**Pairing: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy**

**Rating: M**

**Summary: Draco gets more than he bargained for one day in the prefects' bathroom.**

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**The Perks of Being Prefect**

* * *

"Oh fucking hell," Draco panted, palming his cock. He knew what he was doing was wrong, but he couldn't stop himself. The prefects' bathroom had this tiny little peephole on the boys' side. It was well known amongst the boys of Hogwarts. Draco assumed it was much less well known among the girls. At least he hoped so. He'd locked the boys' side when the bountiful Hannah Abbot had waltzed into the girls' side. Abbott's breasts were much talked about amongst the boys of Hogwarts, especially the prefects and Draco always took advantage of the peephole when he knew Abbott would be in the bathroom. Abbott cheated him that day though, she'd waltzed into the shower cubicle and back out in record time. Draco barely had time to get his cock out before she'd left the prefects' bathroom again.

Then Granger had walked in. Swotty, bossy, muddy Granger. Draco rolled his eyes and sneered. He wasn't interested in finding out what Granger had on under her robes. But then, she stood directly in front of the peephole and disrobed. Almost like she was putting on a show for him, or whoever was behind the peephole. That's when Draco found out that swotty, bossy, muddy Granger had a bloody banging body. Her legs went on for days. Her arse was pert and round and Draco's fingers itched to squeeze it. And her tits. Merlin, who knew that Granger's tits were so big and bouncy. Her nipples pebbled in the cool air of the bathroom and Draco would have given up his entire family fortune just to taste one of those perky brown nipples. His cock had flagged when Granger walked in and now it was at full attention again.

It was too good to be true, Granger was now running her hands up and down her body, lifting her breasts and tweaking her nipples. Draco wanted to back away from the peephole to see if he was being pranked, but the sight in front of him was too alluring. Instead, he closed his hand around his cock and began a slow stroke. When Granger's hand dipped between her legs, Draco almost choked. Her hand didn't stay there, instead, she turned from the peephole and dove into the bath that had been filling the entire time. From there, Draco could only get glimpses of her as she bathed. An elbow here, a breast there. At one point, she'd popped a leg out of the bath and began casting a depilatory charm.

Despite having wanted to have a wank over Abbott's tits, wanking to Granger bathing was suddenly all Draco wanted to do. He began pulling on his cock in earnest as he watched her. He imagined her bent over, her legs spread and just as she exited the bath, Draco came all over his hands and pants.

"Fuck," he murmured as he cast about for his wand to clean himself up with. Granger was getting ready to leave and Draco knew it was stupid, but he felt like he had to see her. To know that it was really her he'd been lusting over and not some figment of his imagination. He straightened himself up and waited by the boys' door until he heard the girls' door open. He opened his door just in time to see Granger stepping out of the girls' door. He looked down on her haughtily and was about to say something derogatory when she smirked and winked at him. Draco stared after her as she flounced down the hall with a pronounced sway in her hips. Although he'd just wanked, that saucy look she'd given him had made him hard all over again. _Fuck._

**_~Fin~_**


	8. The Favor

**Created for Hermione's Haven Bingo 2019 Fest! This is for my B2 square which was the quote: I taught you how to pick locks, and this is how you're using that skill? - Marilyn Maverick**

**This Thorfinn Rowle is inspired by canimal's in The Parolee and the Princess.**

**No beta, just Grammarly. If you love this (or hate it) please let me know about in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff.**

**Pairing: Hermione Granger/Thorfinn Rowle**

**Rating: T**

**Summary: How Hermione Granger came to owe Thorfinn Rowle more than one favor.**

* * *

**The Favor**

* * *

"I taught you how to pick locks, and this is how you're using that skill?" Rowle drawled from behind her.

Hermione whirled around, attempting to hide the guilty expression she was sure had crossed her face.

"The Minister's office? Really? Do you have a death wish?" Rowle asked, leaning against his mop.

Hermione pursed her lips, trying to figure out a way out of this mess. "Listen, all I'm doing is grabbing a proposal from his desk that he shouldn't have. It was submitted by accident," Hermione finally settled on. It wasn't a proposal at all, but rather a very embarrassing shopping list that had somehow made its way into the folder of parchment headed for the Minister's desk. And considering it was on Hermione's customized stationary, it would be very obvious who the shopping list belonged to. She'd never live it down if the Minister discovered it. And it's possible she could be fired for it.

Rowle narrowed his eyes at her. He glanced up and down the hallway and not seeing anyone, he turned his back to her. "Carry on then, little witch. I'll pretend I didn't see anything. But I won't be able to keep my mouth shut if someone else finds out about this."

Hermione huffed a sigh of relief. "Thanks, Rowle. I really owe you,"

"Don't worry, I plan to collect," Rowle muttered under his breath. Hermione pretended to not hear him as she turned back around to the door. She was having trouble and sighed heavily after the third try didn't work.

"Salazar, I'm going to get into so much trouble for this," Rowle murmured as he shouldered her aside and took the lock picking set from her.

"Rowle, don't—" Hermione stated, but he waved her off and the door clicked open. Rowle was on his feet with the mop in his hands faster than Hermione thought it was possible for anyone to move. She picked up the lock picking tools quickly and stumbled into the Minister's office, closing the door, but not latching it. Rowle didn't tell her he would be her lookout, but she had to assume he was still out there. She could just barely make out the sound of the mop against the marble floor.

Hermione began rummaging through the folders on the Minister's desk, looking for hers, but they all looked the same and she was cursing under her breath as she opened each of them, looking for her handwriting. Finally, she found the folder and began fingering through the pages looking for her stationary. She found it and did a quick, silent jig as she replaced everything.

"Evening," Rowle muttered to someone and Hermione held her breath as she hid behind the Minister's door, hoping that whoever it was, wasn't the Minister or she was so screwed. After a long moment, Rowle said, "Coast's clear, darling."

Hermione rushed out of the Minister's office, locking the door on the way out.

"Thanks, Rowle," she muttered and leaned up to buss his cheek. Before she could move away, he wrapped a strong arm around her waist.

"You owe me, remember?" he asked. Hermione's breath caught in her throat as she gazed up at him. She nodded.

"Good. I'll let you know when I'm ready to call it in." He smirked at her and released her waist. Hermione could breathe again, but she was panting as if she'd run a marathon. She hurried away from Rowle and the Ministry, thankful that her very embarrassing shopping list had been recovered and only a little bit worried about what and when Rowle intended to call in his favor.

_**~Fin~**_


	9. Lifting

**Created for Hermione's Haven Bingo 2019 Fest! This is for my G4 square which was the pairing: Cormac McLaggen. **  
**This one turned into a proper one-shot!**

**No beta, just Grammarly. If you love this (or hate it) please let me know about in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff.**

**Pairing: Hermione Granger/Cormac McLaggen**

**Rating: M**

**Summary: Hermione Granger has been lusting after her colleague Cormac McLaggen for months but has been too shy to act on it. Until now.**

* * *

**Lifting**

* * *

"You coming, Granger?" Cormac McLaggen asked as he popped his head over the top of Hermione's cubicle wall.

"Not tonight." She gave him a brief smile and looked back down at the pile of parchment in front of her. She had plenty to do, that meant going to the pub with her office crush for drinks was not in the cards for her. Or rather, she couldn't handle another night of McLaggen's bro-ing friendship when all she really wanted was for him to make her scream. In the carnal sense.

"You sure?" McLaggen asked again. He grinned and Hermione held back a sigh at how his boyish good looks as a teenager had made him a proper heartthrob as an adult.

"Yeah, I have a proposal due on Friday. Got a few more loose ends to tie up," Hermione said, returning his grin. It was infectious really when he smiled at her like that, she couldn't help but smile back.

"Alright, but you better not still be here at ten tonight! Go home, and enjoy your evening," McLaggen said.

Hermione laughed. "Don't worry, I won't be."

"Good." He offered her another grin and turned away, heading out of her department with most of their colleagues. Hermione sighed. They'd had a failed date when he was a cocky, oversure teenager. And now that he was a confident, self-assured man, all she wanted was a date with him. But he had thought they were just great friends. She'd been insisting as such for years now, she had nobody else to blame but herself.

Several hours later, Hermione was the last person left in her department and probably the whole Ministry, besides the custodial staff. She cast a bleary eye at the clock on the wall and frowned seeing that it read ten till ten. She really hadn't planned to stay so late, but she'd been wrapped up in this proposal she was trying to finalize that she'd lost track of time.

The door to her department banged open and Hermione jumped at the noise. Her heart beat wildly in her chest for a moment.

"Just the cleaning crew," she muttered to herself as she began organizing her desk for the morning. She really ought to go home. Maybe heat up a tin of soup before crawling into bed. She hadn't realized it earlier, but now she was quite hungry.

"I fucking knew it," a voice slurred from behind her.

Hermione whirled around to find McLaggen standing at the entrance to her cubicle. He was clearly in his cups, which as a teenager had made him sullen. Now as an adult, he was grinning like a fool at her.

"Knew what, McLaggen?" Hermione asked primly. She'd turned her desk chair around to face him entirely. A zing of arousal going through her at the sight of him without his work robes on. He wore a Muggle-style navy suit, the tie long since removed and the crisp white shirt had the first few buttons undone. Hermione wondered what his Adam's apple tasted like as she watched it bob.

"Earth to Granger?" McLaggen said, waving his hand in front of her face. Shit, she'd zoned out, fantasizing about him again.

"You were saying?" Hermione said, trying to cover for herself and focus on McLaggen and his conversation.

McLaggen's grin only widened. "I was saying that I knew you would be here until ten tonight. I made a bet with Cornfoot that you'd still be here. You just won me ten Galleons."

Hermione frowned at him. "Bully for you, McLaggen. I was just leaving actually." She turned back to her desk and seeing that everything was in as much of an order as it could be for the morning, she pulled her handbag from the bottom drawer she kept it in and made to stand.

"Not so fast, Granger," McLaggen said, entering her cubicle properly. They weren't large, just enough to fit a chair and maybe one other person standing in it. Hermione sat back on the chair and gazed up at him.

"You like me, don't you?" McLaggen asked, tilting his head to the side.

"Like you? McLaggen, what are you on about?" Her heart beat faster. Did he know? About the crush she'd been harboring for the last year? Hermione had thought she'd been so careful.

"I think you do. I see the way you look at me, you know? And then there are those moments when you seem to lose focus around me. What were you thinking about earlier?"

"How good your Adam's apple would taste if I licked it," Hermione muttered. She immediately gasped and slapped her hands over her mouth. Why had she said that? She hadn't meant to say anything. She really must be tired. Her cheeks heated and McLaggen threw his head back and laughed. It was a deep, rich sound that made desire swoop through her.

"Oh, you do like me. I had always wondered, you know?" McLaggen was now leaning over her office chair. A hand on either armrest, effectively pinning her in.

"What are you going to do about it?" Hermione whispered. Her eyes bounced between his clear blue ones and his lips twisted into that mirthful grin.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" McLaggen said with a smirk. Hermione's eyes widened and suddenly, his lips were pressed to hers. For a moment she froze. She couldn't quite believe it was happening. McLaggen pulled back, a frown marring his face, but Hermione suddenly knew that this had been the opportunity she was waiting for. She slipped one hand up and cupped the back of his neck, bringing his lips to hers again. She moved her lips over his warm, dry ones and opened her mouth when he slid his tongue along her bottom lip. Sparks danced behind Hermione's closed eyes as her tongue danced with McLaggen's. If only kissing him as a teenager had been this delicious. A soft sound escaped her when he finally pulled back a moment later. Both of them were breathing heavier after that brief, but intense snog.

"Merlin, Granger," McLaggen breathed.

"I—"

He cut her off by pressing his lips to hers again. Then, his hands were wrapped around her upper arms and he pulled her to standing. She wound her arms around his shoulders, carding one hand through his hair. He placed both hands on her waist and guided her backward until her bum hit the edge of her desk. He lifted her up and she sat fully on the desk, widening her legs so he could step between them. He was drunk, she knew she should stop this. It wasn't right.

"Cormac," Hermione breathed heavily, pulling away from him. She couldn't remember the last time she'd called him by his first name. Probably not since sixth year if she was honest with herself. "We shouldn't do this."

"Why not?" McLaggen asked as he kissed his way down her jaw and to her neck. He pushed her hair over her shoulder and licked her from the base of her neck up to her ear. Hermione shivered at the feel of his hot tongue on her skin. "You don't like it?" His breath was hot in her ear and he nipped at her lobe, making her shiver again.

"N-No, I do," Hermione insisted, her hands clenched into fists around the lapels of his suit jacket. "But you're drunk and—"

"Think I'm going to regret this in the morning, Granger?" McLaggen asked as he pulled back from her to look her in the eye. He was frowning and Hermione felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. She just royally fucked this up, didn't she?

"Maybe," she admitted, and looked away. Unwilling to look him in the eye. To see him judge her inadequate.

McLaggen gripped her chin between his thumb and forefinger and turned her to face him. "I'm not that drunk, Granger. Maybe you aren't the only one who has been looking, eh?"

Hermione bit her lip. She still wasn't sure and she could see that Cormac was getting angry.

"It's a one time deal, Granger. Take it or leave it." McLaggen took a step back from her and Hermione shivered again, but this time because she felt cold and bereft. When she didn't say anything for a long moment, she was still so unsure, McLaggen snorted and turned to walk out of her cubicle. "Fucking typical," he muttered under his breath as he walked out of their department and toward the lifts. The door banged loudly and the sound made Hermione jump again. It seemed to have broken her out of whatever reservations she had though.

"What the fuck am I doing?" she muttered to herself. She snatched her handbag and Summoned her cloak as she took off out of the department at a dead run. She caught up with McLaggen just as he was getting onto a lift.

"Cormac!" Hermione shouted, dashing down the corridor and skidding into the lift just as the doors were closing.

"Did you want something, Granger?" McLaggen lifted one eyebrow in that haughty way he had and Hermione couldn't stop herself, her handbag and cloak fell to the floor as she launched herself at him. She wound her arms around his shoulders and a short jump had her legs wrapped around his waist. His hands fumbled a bit before catching her thighs as Hermione pressed her lips to his.

McLaggen didn't hold back. Turning them swiftly, he backed her into the wall of the lift and plundered her mouth. When his hips rocked into hers, Hermione knew that her knickers were damp. They dampened further at the evidence of his arousal ground into her core.

"Fucking hell, Granger. Thought you were going to leave me hanging," McLaggen groaned into the side of her neck as his fingers worked the buttons of her blouse.

"I did too," Hermione admitted, smoothing her hands over his shoulders. She always did have a thing for the broad-shouldered Quidditch players.

McLaggen opened her blouse and his hands began teasing her nipples through her lacy bra. Hermione couldn't seem to stop her hips from moving against McLaggen as he ravished her.

"Cormac," Hermione whinged as she reached a hand between them and began unbuckling his belt. She could feel his length beneath her fingers and her mouth watered. McLaggen pulled her bra cups down, freeing her breasts and he lavished attention on them, making Hermione forget for a moment what she had been doing. She clutched his head to her breasts as he licked, nipped, and sucked. "Oh, fucking Godric, please!"

McLaggen was silent, as he slipped a hand between them and pushed her knickers to the side. His fingers twisted until they sank into her wet heat. Hermione groaned and threw her head back into the wall of the lift as he fingered her. His thumb brushed her clit at the same time as he nipped at her nipple and she gasped.

"Now, Cormac! Please!" Hermione begged, renewing her attention to his trousers. A few moments later and McLaggen's hard, silky length was pressing through her folds, the head bumping her clit making Hermione pant with need. A few more slides and Cormac found his way to her center and slid home.

He grunted, closing his eyes, leaning his forehead against hers. Their breath mingled for a moment as they both adjusted to him being inside her. It felt fucking fantastic, full and hard. Hermione clenched her inner muscles and McLaggen groaned, slowly dragging his cock out of her before sharply snapping his hips to push back inside. Hermione grunted at the sharp pace he was setting. She grabbed the back of his neck and planted her lips on his again. Their kiss mimicking what their bodies were doing. Fierce, sharp, lips, tongues, and teeth as they took a year of pent-up arousal and expressed it against one another.

"Fuck," Hermione groaned as she felt that familiar sweet tightening in her core. McLaggen was hitting that sweet spot inside, the one that drove her absolutely wild, and his pubic bone ground against her clit with each thrust. It wasn't going to be long now. McLaggen had both hands on her arse, holding her up against the wall as he pounded into her.

"I like your dirty mouth," McLaggen whispered into her ear and it was just the thing to send Hermione into the explosive spiral of her orgasm. She shouted as she came, her walls clenching around him tightly for several long moments. McLaggen's pace slowed slightly, drawing out her pleasure until she was a boneless heap in his arms. Then he braced himself against the wall behind her and truly began to hammer home, chasing his own pleasure. Hermione trailed her hands up and down his back and whispered filthy things in his ear.

"Fucking love your cock," she said, nipping his earlobe. "Best fucking cock there is. Oh, Merlin!" A particularly hard thrust and her walls fluttered around him again. "Keep that up and I'll be coming again. Screaming your name as I clench around your cock."

McLaggen groaned and impossibly increased his pace. It was all Hermione could do to hold on as he took her for the ride of her life. A second orgasm fluttered through her. She dropped her head back, and McLaggen buried his face into her neck and shoulder as he came with a great shudder. They stood there, pressed against each other for long moments, both trying to catch their breath. When McLaggen raised his head, he had this incredible look on his face, like he couldn't believe that had just happened, mixed with joy and Hermione couldn't stop her sappy grin upon seeing it. McLaggen leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers in a sweet, sensual, come-down kiss. Hermione's eyes fluttered closed as she held him tightly to her, eagerly responding to the kiss.

"We should probably go home now," McLaggen finally murmured against her lips.

Hermione hummed her agreement, slowly opening her eyes and unwrapping her legs from his hips. "Your place or mine?" she asked boldly.

McLaggen chuckled. "I'm too drunk to Apparate, better go to yours."

Hermione laughed and they straightened each other's clothes for a few moments. When they were both decent enough to face the world, Hermione pressed the button on the lift for the Atrium.

**_~Fin~_**


	10. Rewrite the Ending

**Created for Hermione's Haven Bingo 2019 Fest! This is for my G5 square which was the prompt: Fairy Tale.**

**No beta, just Grammarly. If you love this (or hate it) please let me know about in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff.**

**Pairing: Hermione Granger/Thorfinn Rowle**

**Rating: M**

**Summary: Hermione finds herself running through an unfamiliar forest with a werewolf chasing her. When she stumbles across a cabin, she decides to hide inside until dawn. Unbeknownst to her, the owners of the cabin come home after she's fallen asleep in one of their chairs.**

* * *

**Rewrite the Ending**

* * *

Hermione choked as she heard the second howl, closer than the first and she began to run. She panicked. Not something that happened often, but she was already freaked out, being alone in this dark forest, that the sound of a wolf was enough to send her straight over the edge into a full-blown crisis. So she ran. And ran. And ran.

Apparition didn't cross her mind until she was panting and exhausted. The sound of the wolf crashing through the forest behind her told her to stay the course and keep running.

The moment she felt protective wards washing over her, she stopped, looking around for what those wards could be protecting. At first, she saw nothing but more woods, but she took a few steps further and spied a cabin through the trees in a clearing. The wards had felt welcoming, which was strange. Generally, wards were only welcoming if you were keyed to them. Hermione had never been to this forest outside of Newcastle before. And the only reason she was here this night was because of the rumored wild asphodel that grew here. She hadn't found it before the howl of the werewolf interrupted her. She closed her eyes, feeling the wards to see if they would deter magical creatures and felt relief flood her body as she realized they were warded against all magical creatures.

A dull thud behind her startled her and she whipped around to see the werewolf picking itself up from where it hit the edge of the wards. It shook itself, glaring at her, before pacing around the outside of the ward boundary. The meaning seemed clear, the werewolf wasn't leaving the area anytime soon.

Why had they accepted her though? Theoretically, she should have bounced off of them. It was strange and Hermione decided she should find out who lived in the cottage she could just barely see through the trees.

The full moon hid behind a cloud and the forest grew dark enough that Hermione pulled out her wand and lit the way with a Lumos. As she picked her way through, Hermione mulled over the puzzle of the wards. Perhaps whoever lived or owned the cabin knew her? Although, even then, why would they have keyed the wards to her? The closer she crept to the cottage the more uneasy she felt. Could this be a trap? Set by the few rogue Death Eaters that still hadn't been caught? Or newly released Death Eaters intent on wreaking havoc now that they'd paid for their war crimes? The war was five years in the past, which meant the first wave of Death Eaters had been paroled already.

Hermione bit her lip nervously as the cottage finally came into sight and she stepped into the clearing it was situated in. The air smelled loamy with a hint of rain on the horizon. The cottage looked homey, with lights on and a fire lit, she could see the smoke escaping the chimney. It was likely, that she had tripped an alerting ward, so if she didn't approach the cottage, the inhabitants would come and look for her. Which was worse, hiding in the woods within the protective wards from both the owner of the cabin and the werewolves? Or taking her chances with whoever owned the tidy-looking cottage?

Squaring her shoulders, Hermione made a decision and approached the cabin cautiously, her wand in her hand at her side. She knocked on the door and received no answer. Trying the handle, the door opened and Hermione suddenly felt like she was transported into a horror movie. Wasn't this how they started?

Her heart hammered in her chest as she pushed the door open. "Hello? Anybody home?" she called out and received no reply. Hermione had enough Auror training under her belt before she'd decided it wasn't for her, that she quickly moved through all of the rooms of the cabin, clearing it. It was completely empty. Hermione frowned as she returned to the front room of the cabin. It wasn't large, but there were three lived-in bedrooms. So whoever lived here, there were three of them.

Hermione sat down in one of the armchairs in the living room, to wait for her hosts to return. Perhaps it was rude to be sitting inside someone's house, however, it was cold outside, and Hermione had hoped she wouldn't be waiting long. There was still the issue of the wards to puzzle over too. Whoever owned the cabin had to be a friend if Hermione was keyed to the wards, right?

After half an hour or so, Hermione stood from the chair. It was lumpy and uncomfortable, clearly conformed to someone's bum and didn't fit Hermione at all. She paced for a little while, trying to decide if she should stay in the cabin, or attempt to leave the forest entirely. Apparition was always possible, but she knew the wards had anti-Apparition included in them, which meant she would have to leave the boundary of the wards before she could Apparate home. Would the werewolf have given up by now? Would the werewolf smell her through the wards? Hermione didn't know. She wasn't an expert in wards, although she knew quite a bit about them.

Finally, Hermione settled into a different chair in the front room and curled up. Perhaps she would close her eyes for just a few moments.

No more than ten minutes had gone by before Hermione was up and out of the chair. It was too hard and her bum had begun falling asleep. She paced for a few minutes more, but the anxiety of the failed werewolf attack and the dullness of the cabin was making her sleepy. So she settled into the third and final chair. It was the largest of the three and extremely comfortable. She curled up and fell asleep within moments.

* * *

"Who tripped the wards? Can you tell?" Thorfinn Rowle asked Antonin Dolohov as they crossed the bright-red wards.

"Merlin," Rabastan Lestrange swore when a thump sounded behind them. The three wizards whirled around to find a werewolf shaking itself as it growled at them.

"Well, we can be reasonably sure that whoever it was, was running from that," Antonin replied with a sneer.

"How would they have even gotten in?" Rabastan asked.

"I set the wards to not allow anyone in with ill intent," Antonin said. "They are of my own making and I was trying them to see how well they would work."

"So you're telling us that literally, anybody could be in here with us?" Thorfinn asked glancing around. He didn't like the idea of not knowing who exactly he was going to encounter at his home. Azkaban had been bloody awful and when the three of them had been released, it seemed easier for them all to hide away in the woods than try to integrate themselves back into wizarding society. Now they only ever went to the wizarding section of Newcastle. Eschewing London entirely.

"Well, they don't hold any ill intent toward us," Antonin said.

"If your wards work correctly, they don't," Rabastan muttered.

"It's not like I have any other place I can try the wards I create," Antonin said. "I'm sure whoever it is, is just waiting until dawn when wolfy back there is no longer after them."

"Small comfort," Thorfinn muttered. He began making his way toward the cabin he shared with Antonin and Rabastan. He was holding his wand at the ready, ready for an ambush, but they made it the two hundred yards to the cabin without encountering anyone.

"Think they're inside the cabin?" Rabastan whispered.

"Likely," Antonin replied. "It's cold out here. And it's not like the cabin locks."

"We're going to be discussing this at a later date," Thorfinn hissed as he pushed the door to their home open.

The sight that greeted the three wizards was astonishing. A witch was curled up on Thorfinn's chair, fast asleep.

"_Silencio_," Antonin hissed, silencing the front room as the three of them spoke in the entryway.

"Your wards don't work," Rabastan said. "They keep out werewolves, but there is no way that witch doesn't hold ill will toward all of us. Especially, you two!"

Thorfinn swept his eyes over the form of Hermione Granger curled up in his chair and a feeling he wasn't sure he was ready to identify thumped in his chest. Something that bordered on protectiveness.

"Maybe she doesn't," Thorfinn murmured, stepping forward.

"We should leave," Rabastan said, grabbing Thorfinn's arm to halt his movement.

"No, my wards are correct," Antonin said. "She really must not hold any ill intent toward us for her to be here."

"That's impossible. You both have almost killed her in the past. Twice for you Antonin." Rabastan was adamant.

"No, I think she'll be fine," Thorfinn said, shaking Rabastan's hand from his arm. He didn't know how he knew, but somehow, he did. Hermione Granger held no ill will toward him, Antonin, or Rabastan. Perhaps she was just a believer in the justice system? Thorfinn wasn't sure, but something about her drew him to her. As he moved forward he removed the Silencing charm Antonin had placed on the front room and stepped inside.

Granger looked comfortable in his chair and that feeling that Thorfinn didn't want to examine too closely was back. He crouched down before the chair, his wand tucked away and reached a hand out touching her shoulder softly.

"Time to wake up, little witch," Thorfinn said quietly.

She grumbled in her sleep and shifted her position slightly. Thorfinn huffed a laugh under his breath and shook her shoulder a little harder. "Wakey wakey."

Granger awoke with a start and a snort. Her eyes widened momentarily when she spotted him then seemed to relax for a moment.

"Hi," he said.

"Hey," Granger replied. Then she rubbed her eyes and opened them again. "Oh, fucking hell."

Thorfinn snorted. "I think I should be the one saying that. You're the one asleep in my chair, in my house."

"Right," Granger sat quickly and Thorfinn stood, backing away to give her room to stand too. "Sorry about that. I was looking for a patch of asphodel and then there was a werewolf and… why did your wards let me in?"

"Ah, that would be my doing," Antonin said stepping forward. Granger started. It was clear by the way her eyes widened that she hadn't seen him. "I like to create my own wards, and I was trying these. They will let anyone in who doesn't have any ill intent to the people who live here."

"And who all lives here?" Granger asked, peeking around Thorfinn's bulk.

"Me, Thorfinn, Rabastan," Antonin said. He held his hands out, with his wand stowed. Still, Granger took a small step back when he spoke. Rabastan stepped into the front room as well, crowding the space, practically cornering Granger and Thorfinn frowned.

"I see," Granger nodded her head. She took a quick glance at her wristwatch before settling her eyes back onto Thorfinn.

"Well, seeing as how the werewolf that chased you in here is still out there, why don't you just stay here until dawn. Want something to eat?" Thorfinn asked, making a move toward the kitchen. He ignored the fact that Rabastan was scowling behind him and gestured for Granger to proceed him into the kitchen.

"Sure," she murmured and ducked her head as she slipped past him and out into the short hallway to the kitchen.

Thorfinn whirled around to the other two wizards. "I suggest if you can't be civil you take yourselves to bed," he hissed.

Rabastan glared at him. "Antonin's wrong, she can't mean anything good, Thorfinn."

Thorfinn sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I can't explain it, but… just trust me, would you?"

"Goodnight," Antonin cut in, dissolving some of the tension between the two arguing wizards. He slipped up the stairs quietly.

Rabastan glared at him for a moment more before he too took his leave and Thorfinn breathed a sigh of relief.

Straightening his spine he sauntered into the kitchen. "So, any preferences on what you want?" he asked Granger. She was standing stiffly in the middle of the room, taking it all in for a moment.

"Oh, uh, you don't actually have to give me anything," she said. "Thanks for letting me stay until dawn. That's very kind."

"Do I have much of a choice? If I kicked you out, you'd either freeze to death or get eaten by a werewolf. I'm not willing to let either of those things happen," Thorfinn admitted.

Granger cocked her head and studied him for a long moment. "Still, thank you for your hospitality. Perhaps I should cook as a thank you? I could probably manage a decent fry up."

"I'll help," Thorfinn grinned at her and began pulling ingredients and cooking gear out of the cupboards.

Somehow, he and Granger worked well together in the kitchen and soon they were discussing her potions research as they finished up and ate at the large table on the other side of the room.

By the time they had cleaned up, it was very late indeed.

Thorfinn rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of what he was about to offer. "We don't have a sofa, but you can take my bed, I'll sleep in the chair down here."

"Oh, um, you don't have to do that. I'll be fine on the chair," Granger said, smiling slightly.

"Oh, Merlin, no. I insist actually," Thorfinn said as he led her up the stairs toward his room. Both Antonin and Rabastan's doors were closed and Thorfinn breathed a small sigh of relief. He didn't want to deal with either of them at the moment. A flick of his wand, once he opened the door, changed the sheets on his bed.

He stepped aside and waved Granger into the room. She gasped as she entered the room, looking around at all the bookshelves. He slipped the door shut so as not to wake either of his housemates.

"Are these all yours?" she asked as she stepped to the closest one.

"Yeah," Thorfinn rubbed the back of his neck again. "I like knowing things."

"Me too," Granger said, grinning up at him. Thorfinn's heart thumped hard in his chest. He'd give anything to have her give him that look again.

Granger stepped back from the bookcase and turned toward the bed.

"Well, I should go, it's late," Thorfinn said, turning to go back downstairs.

"Rowle, wait," Granger said and he turned back to her. "It's a big bed…" she trailed off, biting her lip.

"It is," Thorfinn nodded, unsure of where she was going with this.

"Instead of being uncomfortable on the chair downstairs, maybe you should just sleep up here. In the bed," she clarified.

Thorfinn stopped breathing. Was she really asking what he thought she was?

"Are you sure?" he couldn't stop himself from asking, even though half of his brain was shouting at him to just get in the bed.

"Yeah," she said, shrugging one shoulder and offering him a half-smile.

"Alright," he nodded. Granger's smile widened and she turned her back on him.

When her jumper fell to the floor and she stood with her back to him in only her bra, Thorfinn was sure his heart stopped beating. Reaching behind her, she flicked the straps of the bra, letting it fall to the floor too. A wiggle of her hips and her denims were off and on the floor and then she climbed into the bed in just her knickers and her socks and Thorfinn was sure he'd never seen a sexier sight.

He wasted no time in taking off his own jumper and trousers and crawling into bed after her in just his pants. She had the sheet pulled above her breasts and her arm resting on the pillow, her hand holding her head up as she grinned at him. He mirrored her pose, returning the grin, but couldn't stop his eyes from dropping to wear the sheet dipped slightly, showing the swell of her breasts. She reached a hand out and placed it on his chest. It was warm and Thorfinn's heart stuttered at the contact, his eyes fluttered closed for a moment as he took a deep breath to steady his nerves. It had been so long since anyone had touched him.

"Is this okay?" she asked softly, her fingers tracing patterns against his pectoral muscles.

"Yes," Thorfinn gasped. His own fingers itched to touch her, but he kept them to himself, he didn't want to scare her.

Suddenly, her hand was gone from his chest, and she entangled her fingers in his own, then she brought them up to her own chest, slipping beneath the sheet and pressing his hand to her breast. It was all the encouragement Thorfinn needed when she gasped as his thumb grazed her nipple.

With his other hand, he dragged her closer and slanted his lips over hers in the same movement. From then their actions were frantic with need and want. It was mere moments later she was straddling his waist as he aligned his cock with her slit.

"Are you—" she cut him off with a finger to his lips.

"Please, fuck me, Thorfinn," she murmured. Thorfinn's eyes fluttered for a moment before he flexed his hips, slipping inside her. She slid down his cock, settling onto him completely with a small moan.

"Holy, mother of Merlin," Thorfinn muttered as her silken, hot walls encased him fully. He felt as though he had died and gone to heaven.

Granger huffed a laugh and began to move in a rocking motion. Thorfinn's hands were everywhere, on her thighs, then her waist, weighing her breasts, thumbing her nipples. He couldn't get enough of her. He didn't think he'd ever get enough of her.

Wanting to kiss her, he sat up swiftly and helped her move her legs around to straddle him. Being face-to-face with her in his lap was so much more intimate and he cupped the back of her head as he pressed his lips to her. She gasped and he slipped his tongue inside her mouth, mimicking what his cock was doing to her cunt.

His other hand began a slow descent from her breast to her clit where he began thumbing it. He was so fucking close, but no way was he going to finish without her. After a particularly hard thrust, she fucking shattered around him.

Breaking the kiss, her head tossed back and she shrieked her completion as her walls tightened like a vise around his cock. Thorfinn finished with a grunt and dropped his head to her shoulder.

Later, when they were wrapped around each other, Granger murmured something he didn't quite catch.

"What was that?" he asked as he twirled a strand of her hair around his finger.

"I said, that's not how Goldilocks is supposed to go," Granger said louder, grinning at him.

"It's not? We should rewrite that ending then," Thorfinn murmured, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. Granger laughed, a tinkling sound that Thorfinn knew he was going to want to hear for the rest of his life.

_**~Fin~**_


	11. The Switch

**Created for Hermione's Haven Bingo 2019 Fest! This is for my I1 square which was the prompt: Superpower/Magic Swap. No beta, just Grammarly. If you love this (or hate it) please let me know about in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff.**

**Pairing: Hermione Granger/Remus Lupin**

**Rating: T**

**Summary: Hermione decides that she needs to help Remus, at least once, and perhaps that will force Remus to look at her in a different light.**

* * *

**The Switch**

* * *

Hermione Granger wasn't even going to be sure it _would_ work without trying it first. Which is why she didn't tell Remus Lupin what her plan was. He wouldn't approve. She knew him well enough to know that, at least.

Living with Remus had been an accident. She wasn't comfortable in Grimmauld Place now that Harry and Ginny were married, and Remus needed help with Teddy yet. So, Hermione had offered to move in for a few weeks while she found a flat of her own in Diagon Alley. Now, six months later, they were still living together and Hermione wasn't even bothering to look for flats anymore. Remus appreciated the help, and the thought of leaving little Teddy was too much for her.

Andromeda still watched Teddy every day while Hermione and Remus were at work. And Hermione liked making dinner for Teddy most evenings. She liked helping Remus care for his son. She knew all she was doing was prolonging the agony whenever Remus inevitably met someone and decided Hermione had to go, but she couldn't seem to push herself out earlier than absolutely necessary.

Hermione shook her head to clear her thoughts. She needed to have clarity if she was going to perform this spell. It was a day before the full moon. A day before she'd have to lock Remus up in the cell in the basement. Except, she would be locking herself up with him. And pray that the spell worked like it was supposed to. It wasn't a cure of lycanthropy, but Hermione thought it might be a way to ease things for Remus. At least once.

She opened Remus' bedroom door very slowly and carefully, he was lying on his side, fast asleep in his bed. Hermione crept inside the darkened room and pointed her wand at the back of his head. She cast the spell. She felt the magic move out of her and saw it hit Remus, but nothing seemed to change. There were hardly any notes on this particular spell, so Hermione had no idea if it had worked or not. She would find out tomorrow night when it was time to lock Remus up.

* * *

"Here we are," Hermione said. She entered the cell with Remus as if to inspect it.

"I had a pretty tame month last month," Remus reminded her. "I'm sure the cell will hold. Besides, you'll be at Andromeda's with Teddy, right?" He wanted to confirm the plan with her, even though the plan hadn't changed at all in the last six months.

"About that," Hermione said in a tone that worried Remus. He sniffed the air, something was decidedly off and he didn't know if it was to do with Hermione or something else. Suddenly, Hermione slammed the cell door shut, locking it, and tossed her wand across the cellar.

"Hermione! What in blue blazes do you think you're doing! I'm going to be turning into a very feral werewolf in less than thirty minutes!" Remus shouted at her. He was horrified. Why was she locking herself in here with him? Why would she do that? Did she want to be a werewolf? Didn't she know how fucking horrific a curse this was?

"Actually, I think it'll be me who will be turning into a feral werewolf," Hermione said quietly.

"What did you do?!" Remus was suddenly livid. His blood raged. Had she let some other werewolf bite her? He crossed the cell quickly and buried his nose in her neck, sniffing her. She still smelled like Hermione. She smelled just as she always did. Like heaven, and decidedly off limits.

"I cast a spell," Hermione said. Her hands were clinging to the front of his t-shirt. He'd pushed her into the bars behind her, his body pressed against hers and Remus felt his cock begin to stir at her nearness.

"What sort of spell?" Remus asked. He should back away from her, but she smelled so damned good. He was taking comfort in the heat of her body against his. The moons were always easier if he was able to have some human comfort prior to them. Teddy helped, but a woman, a curvy, beautiful woman? Nothing could compare.

"It's a power swap spell," Hermione said. "If I did it right, I'm the one who will become the werewolf, while you stay…you."

"Hermione," Remus whined. He wanted to believe her. He was desperate to believe her, but he knew that there wasn't such a thing possible.

"It's fine, Remus," Hermione said. She placed her hands on his chest and pushed him off of her. "It's fine. It will be fine. I will be fine. And if I bite you, well, you're already a werewolf." Her lips twitched into a small half-smile that Remus wanted to return, but he was too worried to do so.

"It's going to hurt," Remus said just as Hermione let out a low groan and fell to the floor.

"It's fine," Hermione said through gritted teeth. Remus backed away from her as her painful transformation took place. His hands shook as he watched her body go through what he did every month.

He sat down hard when she was fully transformed and he remained human. She'd done it. She'd saved him from one painful transformation.

"Oh, Merlin, Hermione," Remus murmured as the dark brown wolf lay before him, panting. She was gorgeous as a wolf, just as she was as a human. "Shh, it's okay." He crawled forward and reached a hand out, petting her right between her ears. She whined deep in her throat and in a flash was on her feet. Her nose was cold as she sniffed every part of him she could. When she was done, Remus was half afraid she would bite him, but instead, she sat back on her haunches, cocked her head to the side and let out a doggy grin, with her tongue hanging out.

"Hermione?" Remus asked. She wasn't acting the least bit feral. Instead, it was as if she understood him. She let out a yip and stepped forward, licking his cheek. "Hermione!" Remus threw his hands around her, hugging her to him. "Thank you," he whispered into the thick fur at her neck. He didn't know how she'd done it, but he was so grateful. Even if she never did it again, Remus would forever be in her debt for relieving him of this burden for just one month.

They spent the evening in the cell, Hermione explored each bit of it with her nose, before finally coming to a rest, half across Remus' legs as he sat with his back against the wall and his legs stretched out in front of him. He had his hand buried into the fur at her neck and they both fell asleep.

* * *

When Hermione woke up, she was cold. She shivered and cuddled closer to the warmth beneath her. A low groan woke her further and she found herself buried in Remus' lap. He had one hand buried in her hair at the back of her neck and he was stroking the soft skin he felt there. She shuddered beneath his ministrations and opened her eyes further to see that Remus was hard. She bit her lip and wondered how awake he was. Judging from his breathing, she suspected he was fast asleep. She knew it was wrong, but she couldn't resist. Leaning forward, she placed a soft kiss on his cloth-covered cock.

Remus groaned loudly and woke with a start then.

"Hermione?"

"Hey," she murmured. She didn't get off his lap though. Her clothes were in tatters in the corner and she was completely nude.

"Oh, Merlin, I'm sorry!" Remus began shuffling to get away from her, but Hermione wrapped her arms around his waist to stay where she was.

"I'm not," she murmured into his lap. "It was quite a lovely surprise to wake up to," she said, gazing at the hard length right in front of her face. She let out a hot breath and Remus shuddered.

"You aren't thinking clearly," Remus insisted, trying to remove her from him.

"Remus," Hermione said, suddenly sitting up. She didn't bother to cover her nudity. "Why do you think I performed that spell?"

"I-I don't know," Remus replied, looking both unsure and hopeful.

"It's because I'm crazy about you," Hermione said, staring into his beautiful eyes. "I wanted to do something for you. And I really rather liked becoming a wolf."

"What if you took the curse from me permanently?" he whispered.

She shrugged. "Then I'm a werewolf. Honestly, I'm not that upset about. I'm more upset that you don't seem to be interested in _me_."

"You don't think I'm interested in you?" Remus looked hurt as he asked that question. "Of course, I'm interested in you, Hermione. But, Merlin, you're so damned young, and—"

"Shut up," Hermione said. Then she leaned forward, straddling his lap and crashed her lips into his. Remus' arms tightened like bands around her as he deepened the kiss and Hermione hummed happily.

_**~Fin~**_


	12. Illicit

**Created for Hermione's Haven Bingo 2019 Fest! This is for my I2 square which was the prompt: The Burrow. No beta, just Grammarly. If you love this (or hate it) please let me know about in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff.**

**Pairing: Hermione Granger/Fred Weasley**

**Rating: M**

**Summary: Hermione and Fred are involved in an illicit affair. Hermione's not ashamed of Fred, but she is worried about how Ron and the rest of the Weasley's will take it when they find out.**

* * *

**Illicit**

* * *

"We shouldn't be doing this," Hermione Granger mumbled against his lips. Fred Weasley shushed her with another toe-curling kiss. Her back was pressed against the outside wall of the Burrow while the rest of the family celebrated Christmas inside.

"Why not?" Fred asked as he tore his lips from hers and kissed along the column of her throat. "You like it. I like it. What's the issue?"

Hermione wanted to tell him that Ron was the issue, but she also didn't want to think about Ron. Anyway, Ron was dating Lavender.

"I don't want to get caught," Hermione said instead as she dug her fingers beneath his jumper to touch the smooth skin of his back. Fred groaned against her neck and his fingers tightened around her hips.

"Well, we could go up to my room," Fred breathed, punctuating that statement with a roll of his hips, showing Hermione just what he wanted to do once he got her in from the cold. "Or we could go to dad's shed…" he pulled back just enough to wiggle his eyebrows at her.

"Oh, tough choice," Hermione smirked at him. "Warm bedroom or smelly old shed full of Muggle lawnmower parts."

"I aim to provide choices, my lady," Fred said with an overexaggerated bow. Hermione shivered as he backed away from her and pulled her from the wall and toward the back stairs. He clasped her hand tightly in his.

"Fred," Hermione said, trying to pull her hand from his.

"Are you ashamed of me?" Fred asked suddenly. He was standing on the first step to the back stoop and positively towered over Hermione.

"Of course not!" Hermione insisted. "But that doesn't mean we should flau—"

Fred dropped her hand. "Right. You are. It's fine." He turned his back on her and headed inside the house.

Hermione stood there, flummoxed. What in the world had just happened?

She stayed outside by herself for another twenty minutes or so before returning inside. Fred was nowhere to be found, at least not downstairs. She didn't see George either, but she felt like she needed to talk to Fred, so she hurried up the crooked stairs of the Burrow and knocked on the twins' door.

"Hey Hermione," George said, opening the door and propping his shoulder against the frame. He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned down at her.

"Can I talk to Fred?" Hermione asked.

"He doesn't really want to talk to you right now," George responded. "Why don't you go bugger off downstairs, yeah?"

"Please, George! I messed up, I get it," Hermione said, tugging the ends of her hair. She tried to peer around George, but he moved, so she couldn't see past him.

"Go away," George muttered and turned to shut the door.

"Just tell him that I'm sorry. I just don't want to hurt anyone's feelings, not Fred's or Ron's," she said quickly before the door shut completely. She felt a wave of magic that indicated a silencing charm went up. Hermione bit her lip and went up the next set of stairs, slipping into the room she was sharing with Ginny. She sat heavily on the camp bed and buried her face in her hands.

She didn't want to cry, but an ache was blooming in her chest and before she knew it, tears were leaking down her face. She decided to give herself ten minutes. Ten minutes to cry about it and wallow in pity before she pulled herself together and stopped hiding away.

Seven minutes into her ten-minute pity party, someone knocked on the door. Hermione hastily wiped her face. "Come in," she said, although her voice was hoarse and she coughed to clear her throat. She definitely sounded like she'd been crying. She just hoped that whoever was on the other side of that door wasn't Fred.

"Hey," Fred said from the door. When he saw her face, he rushed in, shutting the door behind him and kneeled before her. "Godric, Hermione, I didn't mean to make you cry."

That statement served to only make Hermione cry harder. Fred wrapped his arms around her and she buried her face into his shoulder as she wept.

"I'm sorry!" Hermione said a few moments later. "I'm sorry. I don't want to keep this a secret Fred. It's not that. I'm not ashamed of you."

"I know, I know," Fred said as he smoothed a hand down her back. She sniffed and enjoyed the comfort he was providing for a few more moments.

"I just didn't want to ruin anyone's holiday," Hermione whispered into his neck. "And you know Ron would have a massive blow-up about this. He's my best friend."

"He hasn't much acted like it this year," Fred murmured under his breath. Hermione snorted a laugh and pulled out of Fred's arms. "It's fine, Granger. I'll be your dirty little secret," he smirked at her.

Hermione chuckled again. "What changed your mind?"

"Georgie told me what an idiot I was being. Who cares who knows about us? We know, George knows. That's enough for me."

"Just until Ron's done being an idiot," Hermione promised.

"Deal," Fred said. Then he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. "George is going to do us a favor…"

"Oh?" Hermione asked.

"He should be—" a huge boom was heard outside of the Burrow, the windows rattled in their frames. "There it is, come on."

Fred grinned and hopped up, pulling her along after him. She could hear the front and back doors opening as the rest of the inhabitants hurried outside. Fred dragged her to his room.

"He's promised a truly spectacular fireworks show," Fred said. "But I have something different in mind for you," he murmured against her lips as he pulled her inside his room. He shut and locked the door and pushed her onto his bed. Hermione smiled as the booms from outside blocked all of the noises Fred was drawing out of her.

_**~Fin~**_


	13. A Real Marriage

**Created for Hermione's Haven Bingo 2019 Fest! This is for my I3 square which was the pairing: Hermione Granger/Gregory Goyle. No beta, just Grammarly. If you love this (or hate it) please let me know about in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff.**

**Pairing: Hermione Granger/Gregory Goyle**

**Rating: T**

**Summary: The marriage law has swept across the wizarding world, matching the unlikeliest of people by necessity.**

* * *

**A Real Marriage**

* * *

Hermione grimaced as she looked down at the parchment in her hands. The marriage law recently passed by the Ministry was messing with everyone's lives, no more so than Hermione's. As much as she wanted to disagree with the law, the losses during the war had been quite massive. Most of the Weasley's were dead, as were both Harry and Ron. In fact, most of Hermione's year at Hogwarts was dead. She was the sole surviving Gryffindor, there were two Hufflepuffs and a Ravenclaw. And the last Slytherin?

_Gregory Goyle_

Her parchment held the name of the only Slytherin in her year to survive the war. Unless, Hermione wanted her wand snapped and her memory Obliviated, she'd be marrying Goyle of all people. And providing children for him. The whole thing was distasteful in the extreme, but what could she do? She felt an obligation to help rebuild the wizarding world she'd been thrust into as a child. If nothing else, with so many dead, Hermione felt that she had an actual voice. Kingsley had managed to survive and wrestle control of the Ministry. Hermione worked for him because even the Ministry's ranks were decimated. Better to work in the seat of power, she had concluded.

A moment later, another owl burst through the window of her office.

_Miss Granger,_

_Would you be amenable to meeting and discussing our upcoming nuptials?_

_Yours,_

_Gregory Goyle_

Hermione frowned. Nothing was misspelled, and perhaps it could have been politer, it was at least rather straightforward. Honestly, Hermione hadn't even seen Goyle since the final battle. And before that, it hadn't been since sixth year. Over three years. Perhaps he wasn't the goon she was imagining in her head?

She penned a quick reply back and sent it off with the owl, returning to her work. It was an hour before lunch, she could meet with him then. And until then, she would busy her mind with work so as to not work herself into a tizzy over it all. With how low the wizarding population was, she really was doing the work of four people traditionally. Granted, with the lower population also meant less work, but even then Hermione was regularly working sixteen-hour days.

* * *

Greg Goyle shifted from foot to foot as he waited for his intended in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. _Hermione Granger_. It seemed impossible that she was his 'perfect match' according to the Ministry's calculations. How? Greg didn't fool himself. He knew he wasn't nearly as bright as Granger. Nor was he as capable. So really, it didn't make sense. Unless they were matching people up based on houses, blood status, and age? That might make sense. He was a pure-blood. She was a Muggle-born. He was Slytherin. She was Gryffindor. And they were in the same year. That summed up almost everything he knew about her.

When she rushed out of the lift, the breath in his throat caught. He hadn't seen her since the Final Battle at Hogwarts, and even then, he only had glimpses of his memory. She was breathtaking. She looked directly at him as she strode forward, her hair a nimbus cloud around her head. Her chin held up, tall, proud. It made Greg stand taller just having her look at him. He straightened his shoulders and shifted his feet again.

"Goyle," she nodded tightly. Greg offered her his arm.

"I've booked a reservation at an Italian place on Diagon," Greg said softly as he led her toward the Floo. She nodded and allowed him to lead her into the Floo. A flick of his wand and a muttered spell once they arrived removed all evidence of soot from both their persons and Greg felt his face heat up at the appraising look Granger shot him.

"Right this way, Mr Goyle," the maître d' waved them through a heavy curtain to the dining room beyond. He felt Granger's fingers flex against his bicep and he shot a look to see who or what had caught her eye. But he couldn't quite figure it out, perhaps she was intimidated by the decor? Greg wished he would have thought she might not have been to such an establishment before. They were pretty exclusive in serving only pure-blood populations, it would make sense that Granger hadn't been there.

"I hope this is alright," Greg said in a low voice just after the maître d' showed them their table. He held out Granger's chair for him and received another of those looks from her.

"It's fine," Granger replied quietly. "I've never been here though. Never been allowed," she murmured with a self-deprecating laugh.

"That will change now," Greg said with quiet assurance.

"Yes," she agreed with a tight smile.

"I know—" he stopped when the waiter arrived for their drink order. Once the waiter had left, he continued, "I know I wouldn't be your choice, but I hope I will make you a good husband."

He held his breath as he looked into her warm, brown eyes. She had bitten her lip and he had the urge to reach across the table and pull it from between her teeth.

"I...you're right," Hermione said. "But only because I don't _know_ you." She shrugged. "We didn't exactly run in the same circles as children."

Greg's lips twitched. "No, we didn't."

Granger took a deep breath and lifted her eyes to meet his. "I believe in the wizarding world. I won't be letting my wand get snapped and my memories Obliviated. I will conform to the law and marry you, however, I have dreams, ambitions. I won't become a broodmare."

"The law requires three children," Greg replied, he hurried to continue as she looked like she was going to interrupt, "but, it doesn't specify a timeline. I will comply with the law because it is required of my probation and it serves the purpose of propagating my house, but I am ambivalent about the specifics."

"And if I wanted to work after children are born?" Granger asked. She lifted her glass of water to take a sip and Greg watched her carefully. Pure-blood women did not work once children were born, but there were hardly any pure-blood women alive in the world. Greg didn't work, he didn't have much of a need to, and the idea of staying home with his children actually made him smile.

"I'd be happy to stay home to mind the children so you could work, Hermione." It was the first time he'd said the name and he liked the way her eyes brightened upon hearing it. "As I said, I'll follow the law, but the specifics can be up to you. I do have a request though."

"And that is?"

"I'd like us to try and have a _real_ marriage. I…" he trailed off, looking down at his hands. Granger reached across the table and grasped the hand lying near his water glass. His eyes flicked to hers.

"I'd like this to be a real marriage too," Granger said softly. "It's likely this law won't be overturned. If we can make it work, I think we should try."

Greg felt his entire countenance soften at her words. He turned his hand in hers so that he could entwine his fingers with hers and smiled at her.

"Perhaps we could start with a few dates? Get to know each other?" she suggested.

"I'd like that," Greg agreed. "This can be our first."

"Alright." Granger smiled brilliantly at him and Greg felt the breath leave his lungs. He hoped they could make this marriage work because they hadn't even eaten a meal together yet and he was quite sure he was half in love with her already.

_**~Fin~**_


	14. Alive

**Created for Hermione's Haven Bingo 2019 Fest! This is for my I4 square which was the prompt: Sensation Play. No beta, just Grammarly. If you love this (or hate it) please let me know about in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff.**

**Pairing: Hermione Granger/Lucius Malfoy**

**Rating: M**

**Summary: A short, smutty bedroom interlude between Hermione and Lucius.**

* * *

**Alive**

* * *

Hermione shivered as the feather drifted across her bare arm. The blindfold was tied well, she couldn't see a thing from behind it. Lucius didn't say a word as the feather moved from her arm and across her collar bone. Hermione hissed as it lifted momentarily and tickled the tip of one very hard nipple before going back to tracing her collar bones. Her hands and feet were tied to the bedposts so that she was spread-eagled across Lucius's luxurious bed. It felt decadent and sinful and Hermione loved every moment of it.

The feather disappeared for a long moment and Hermione could hear slight shuffling as Lucius moved around the room. The thick, pile carpeting masked most of the sounds and Hermione had to strain her ears in order to hear anything at all.

He was gone so long that finally, she said something. "Lucius?"

A low chuckle then, and the squeak of his leather chair that he had placed at the footboard of the bed.

Hermione's heart skipped a beat when she realized what he was doing. Sitting at the end of the bed, watching her. She could feel her arousal spike and an ache bloomed between her legs. She was desperate for him to touch her.

"I like seeing you like this," Lucius commented lightly, as if he were commenting on the weather. "Trussed up...waiting for me...dripping." His voice drawled, causing Hermione to shiver. She began panting as her imagination took over. She could just see him sitting there, watching her. It should have embarrassed her, but instead, Hermione found it exhilarating. She couldn't hide from him, not like this—not that she wanted to—and it was that thought that deepened her arousal.

She whined low in her throat as she heard the tell-tale clink that meant Lucius was sipping the whisky on ice he preferred. Her anticipation was rising with each moment and she jumped when one of his long fingers reached out and stroked the bottom of her left foot.

"Ahhh," Hermione panted as every nerve in her foot lit on fire and traveled a path back up to her cunt and nipples.

"You're so responsive, my dear," Lucius drawled. The finger on her foot left and Hermione felt bereft.

"Please," she finally said after a long moment of silence.

"If you want something, you have to ask for it. You know the rules," he drawled. She heard the squeak of the leather again as he shifted in his seat. She could only hope that she was causing as much turmoil in him as he was in her.

"Please, touch me, Lucius," Hermione begged.

"Like this?" he asked as he dragged that damned feather across her calf so lightly that she wasn't even quite sure she could feel it.

"More!" Hermione demanded. "Please, Lucius, I need more."

"Mmm," he hummed as the feather disappeared only to be replaced by his finger.

Hermione almost sobbed. He was torturing her. Surely, he understood that.

"Did you need something more?" he asked.

"Yes!" Hermione cried. "Please, Lucius I need you to touch me. To fuck me. To make me feel so fucking good."

"And that's what I was waiting for," he whispered into her ear. Suddenly, he was on top of her and her arms and legs were freed from their restraints. Hermione barely had a moment to take a breath before his cock was plunging its way inside her, practically breaking her apart with his driving stroke. Her back arched and she wrapped her legs around his hips, crying out at how fast and fierce his lovemaking was. It was incredible, and everything she needed. It wasn't long before she was hurtling over the cliff of pleasure and practically boneless in his arms as he drove into her over and over again. One thing Lucius was, was not quiet. He told her repeatedly as he fucked her how beautiful she was, how he loved it when she came around his cock. How fucking her made him feel alive. Hermione shouted yes with each statement. They were as true for Lucius as they were for her.

_**~Fin~**_


	15. Nine Mistakes

**Created for Hermione's Haven Bingo 2019 Fest! This is for my I5 square which was the dialogue: "You are the worst human being on the face of the planet." **  
**"Aw, that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."**

**Also, I feel like an idiot. I literally just realized today that I'm doing these in the wrong order. It was a bingo square, so I intended to do all the B's, then the I's, etc. But because my stories are labeled by what square they were, they are in _alphabetical_ order and not _bingo_ order. So since it's already messed up, I'll just keep doing them in alphabetical order. Whoops, lol. **

**No beta, just Grammarly. If you love this (or hate it) please let me know about in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff.**

**Pairing: Hermione Granger/Thorfinn Rowle**

**Rating: M**

**Summary: Auror Hermione Granger makes nine mistakes as she interrogates Death Eater Thorfinn Rowle.**

* * *

**Nine Mistakes**

* * *

"And then what?" Hermione asked as she paced before the interrogation table.

"Merlin, do we have to keep going over this?" Rowle groaned, dropping his head back and running a hand through his massive mane.

"Yes, we do," Hermione snapped. "That's what happens when you break the law…"

"Only when you get caught," Rowle muttered.

"...you have to pay the consequences. Right now, the consequences are giving me an accurate statement."

"But I've already given it to you three times, little witch!" Rowle growled.

"And I'm asking for it again," Hermione said through gritted teeth, glaring at him. She hated the way he called her little witch. She hated the way it made a pulse of desire begin a slow beat low in her belly. And she especially hated how good he looked after being on the run for three years. Nobody should look that good, and definitely not someone wanted for war crimes. Purebloods were all supposed to be inbred and gnarl-toothed. Yet, here sat Thorfinn Rowle like Merlin's gift to women. He was one of the tallest men Hermione had ever met, and as broad as a draft horse. If she allowed her mind to wander, she pictured herself climbing him like a tree while he fucked her brains out. So she didn't let her mind wander.

"Fine, then we AK'd a bunch of Muggles in the service of the Dark Lord. Happy? Is that what you wanted to hear, little witch?" Rowle asked, bringing her wandering mind back to the task at hand.

His flippant tone pissed her off. "Merlin, you are the worse human being on the face of the planet," she snapped.

"Aw, that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me," Rowle grinned slyly at her. "I think you're beginning to like me."

Hermione sneered at him. "I need more details. How many Muggles? Men? Women? Children?"

"No, children. Mostly men and women, generally prearranged targets depending on who in the wizarding world they were related to."

Hermione stopped pacing and slapped her hands on the metal table, leaning far over it. "Names?" she hissed.

"I don't know," Rowle replied. His brow was furrowed and he shook his head. "I'm not sure we were ever told.

"Then how did you know who to hit?" Hermione asked. She was still in his face and she delighted in the way his eyes raked themselves over her body. Despite being a Death Eater, Rowle was rather harmless compared to the rest of them. He may have been present killing those Muggles, but the advanced version of _Priori Incantatum_ hadn't shown that his wand had ever cast the Killing Curse. Since Rowle wasn't considered dangerous, he wasn't handcuffed. And that's where Hermione made her third mistake. Her first was thinking Rowle was attractive in the first place and her second was her inability to keep her mind _on_ the interrogation and _off_ the sick fantasies that kept flashing behind her eyes.

Rowle reached out and grabbed her wrists, yanking her forward and Hermione surely would have hit her head on the table as hard as her right hip bone had hit it if Rowle hadn't hauled her wrists around his neck and cradled her head with one of his large hands.

"You're pretty when you're mad," Rowle murmured against her lips just before he pressed a searing kiss to them.

Hermione's fourth mistake was responding to the kiss rather enthusiastically. Her fifth mistake was scrambling her way over the table so she could straddle Rowle's lap. Merlin, he was packing some kind of heat in his trousers. It was rock hard and the moment Hermione tilted her pelvis forward, it gave just the right sort of friction she was looking for against her clit and she moaned into his mouth.

Her sixth mistake was not keeping track of her wand because a moment later, Rowle had used it to disrobe them both. It wasn't long before Rowle's cock had slid through her folds and she was impaled.

"Oh, fucking Godric, what are we doing?" Hermione groaned as Rowle flexed his hips. His large hands were on either side of her waist, helping to direct her movements. She had her hands clutched against his shoulders and her eyes firmly closed. Rowle's lips were feathering kisses down the column of her throat.

"I thought it was rather obvious," Rowle murmured as he bent her back slightly, along the length of his forearm. His hand was gripping the back of her neck tightly as he continued to fuck her from below.

"I shouldn't," Hermione shook her head and Rowle's free hand, reached down to flick her clit. Hermione groaned loudly. "I can't."

"Yes, you can, little witch. I can feel how wet you are. You're dripping for me. You _like _it."

Her seventh mistake was admitting that she did indeed like the things Rowle was doing to her body. _Merlin did she like them._

Just as Hermione reached her climax, her back bent so far that her head touched the table behind them as Rowle's arm supported her, the door to the interrogation room flew open.

"Fucking Circe, Hermione! Again?" Harry Potter asked from the door. His hand covered his eyes. Her eighth mistake was getting caught. Again.

"Give us a moment, wouldn't you, Potter?" Rowle grunted as his hips snapped faster and faster. Hermione was completely insensate to anything else going on in the room. The pleasure of her orgasm being drawn out by Rowle's movements.

The door snapped closed again and Rowle finished with a low groan. His lips were pressed against one of Hermione's nipples and she shivered as his whiskers scratched her soft skin in such a delicious way.

"We should stop meeting like this," Rowle murmured.

"Harry is definitely never going to let me interrogate you again," Hermione agreed.

"Guess you'll just have to get on my visiting list for Azkaban," Rowle drawled.

Hermione laughed, nodding her head in agreement. Her ninth mistake.

_**~Fin~**_


	16. Slip

**Created for Hermione's Haven Bingo 2019 Fest! This is for my N1 square which was the threesome: Hermione Granger/Bill Weasley/Charlie Weasley. No beta, just Grammarly. If you love this (or hate it) please let me know about in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff.**

**Pairing: Hermione Granger/Bill Weasley/Charlie Weasley**

**Rating: M**

**Summary: Despite the mistake that Hermione knew it was, she couldn't help but to slip back into it time and time again. Even if it led to her detriment in the end.**

* * *

**Slip**

* * *

"We shouldn't be doing this again," Hermione whispered as Charlie licked her collar bone.

"Don't tell me you're getting cold feet now," Bill murmured from behind her. His hands were heavy on her hips as he guided her bum to press against his hard length.

"Too late for that, love," Charlie agreed before capturing her lips with his in a searing kiss.

Hermione knew that despite how wrong this was, she'd keep coming back for more. It had started a year ago. She'd gotten drunk last Christmas, too drunk. Ron had been passed out and snoring for hours, and Hermione had shared a bottle of Firewiskey with Bill and Charlie. One tiny admission that Ron was terrible in bed and the oldest two Weasley brothers had her clothes off and between them in a heartbeat. They took her hard and fast, right there on the kitchen table of the Burrow. Hermione's cheeks had burned every time she'd eaten at that table since.

Nor did it end there. They restricted themselves to family holidays. Anytime they were all expected to be at the Burrow for an overnight for some holiday or birthday. Which, frequently, had been all of them. Molly was ecstatic that Charlie was coming home so often. Fleur often decided to Floo home with the children, while Bill stayed to 'catch up' with his favorite brother.

Hermione for her part, of course, wanted to talk to Charlie about dragons right's and how they could be protected and preserved here in Britain. Despite how slim the cover story felt to Hermione, every other Weasley seemed to buy it.

Now it was Christmas again, and again the three of them found themselves in Charlie's old room doing naughty things to each other.

In a moment, Bill had her entirely undressed and slid inside her from behind. Hermione gasped and cried out, arching her back. She straddled Bill's waist on the bed, facing Bill's feet, while Charlie kneeled before her, his hands were everywhere. Bill's hands were still heavy on her hips as he helped her move.

"Tell me, does Ron give it to you like this?" Bill grunted. Hermione could practically hear his teeth gritting behind her.

"'Course he can't, Bill," Charlie said around one of her nipples. Nipping at the sensitive flesh in the process. Hermione groaned and arched her back further. "He doesn't have this many hands, eh?"

"Or cocks," Bill agreed, punctuating that agreement with a particularly hard thrust from below. Hermione was hovering just on the edge of her orgasm. Her hands using Charlie's shoulders for balance as she moved her body over Bill's.

Charlie helped her along by sweeping his free hand down to the top of her thighs. A few swirls of his fingers along her clit and her back arched so far as she came she worried it would break. She shouted through her orgasm.

The moment she could breathe enough to talk, Hermione said, "Godric, yes, you two are better than Ron. You both know that. But does Fleur still fuck you, Bill?" She threw him a look over her shoulder. Bill hadn't come yet, and she began bouncing on top of him again.

Bill growled low in his throat and sat up swiftly, wrapping his arms around her torso, his fingers at her nipples as Charlie leaned back on his heels, watching the scene before him.

"You are twice the fuck Fleur has ever been," Bill growled into her neck. In a moment, he had her chest pressed flat to the bed and pulled her onto her knees, fucking her hard from behind.

Charlie brushed a lock of hair from her face. "You shouldn't attempt to make Bill jealous, love. You know he'll leave bruises."

"I like them," Hermione panted as she felt her body tighten with her approaching climax. "I like seeing his bruises and marks on me. I like seeing your marks on me, too. Makes me feel sexy, beautiful, wanted," she wailed the last word as her orgasm ripped through her. This time Bill followed over the edge with her with a low groan. His fingers pressed so tightly into her hips that Hermione knew she'd carry the bruises for weeks.

"My turn," Charlie grinned at her as Bill flopped back onto the bed beside her. Carefully, Charlie turned her over onto her back and laid on top of her. Instead, of sliding inside, though, he kissed her fiercely on the mouth, running his hands down her sides. Hermione reveled in the difference between them. Bill was so fierce and controlling, while Charlie was all softness and tenderness. She tried not to compare them to Ron, but with Ron having Charlie's build it was difficult.

Ron was very much a wham, bam, thank you ma'am type, while Bill and Charlie were devoted to her pleasure. If Hermione didn't have at least four orgasms between the two of them, they were disappointed. She knew what they were doing was unsustainable for the long term, but she couldn't help it. Bill would give her a look and she knew, later he would be taking her.

Charlie bit one of her nipples, making Hermione cry out and bring her attention back to what was happening. Bill swallowed half of her cry with a kiss as Charlie knelt between her legs. He lifted her up onto his lap, helping to wrap her legs around his waist as he nudged his thick cock inside her already swollen channel.

Hermione cried out at the delicious intrusion as Bill's mouth slipped from her's and made it's way down her neck and toward her breasts. She had one hand buried in Bill's hair and the other clutched the sheet beside her as Charlie set out a gruelingly slow pace. Every drag of his cock hit that sensitive front wall of her cunt and she couldn't stop her soft whine with each plunge of his cock.

"Fucking hell, I could listen to that for hours," Charlie hissed.

"Know what you mean. I dream about fucking you," Bill replied as he licked between the valley of her breasts. "Dream about taking you on every fucking surface in this house. Dream about—" he cut himself off as he wrapped his lips around her other nipple.

"—taking you in front of Ron," Charlie finished for him. "Watching Ron's eyes widen as he realizes he's cuckolded by not one, but two of his brothers."

Their words were what set Hermione off on her third orgasm. Their ministrations helped, but the vision they painted with their words was what had her crying out. Charlie's pace increased infinitesimally as she came. He pressed a thumb against her clit and Hermione didn't even have a moment's peace before she was shattering all over again.

"Mmm, good one, Charlie," Bill complimented as Hermione fell back to the bed again in a sweaty heap. "Got one more in there?" he asked Hermione.

Hermione nodded. "Yes," she said, her voice hoarse from screaming. She was glad that they'd each laid a silencing charm over the room, or surely she would have broken through it by now. She was always ready for one more orgasm, especially at the hands of these two.

Bill's kisses slipped lower and Hermione gasped as his tongue circled her clit. Charlie's pace increased just a bit more and that familiar tension began to wind in Hermione's belly.

"Godric, please!" Hermione cried as Bill's tongue flicked her clit in the same spot, over and over again.

"Would you like that, Hermione?" Charlie asked, his hands gripping her thighs tightly as he began pumping faster. "Would you like to be laid out on the kitchen table like last year for the whole family to see? For Ron to see you getting fucked by us? For Fleur to see Bill behind you, fucking you, dominating you and not her?"

"Merlin, yes!" Hermione shouted, picturing it in her mind as the tension inside her snapped. Her orgasm seemed to go on and on and on as Charlie grunted and pounded inside her. Bill's tongue never stopped it's ministrations at her clit, causing innumerable aftershocks.

When Hermione opened her eyes again, both Bill and Charlie were huddled over her.

"You alright, love?" Charlie asked, his voice was full of concern as he swept a hand over her forehead and down her cheek. Hermione nuzzled into it and hummed happily.

"You passed out," Bill rumbled from the other side. "Ever done that before?"

Hermione laughed lightly, her eyes fluttering. "No. I could sleep for a week though."

She missed Bill and Charlie's matching smirks as she slid back into sleep. They'd let her sleep for a few hours before insisting she woke up and get cleaned up and back to Ron's old room. Thankfully, the sleeping draught she had slipped Ron wasn't due to wear off until mid-morning.

* * *

Six weeks later, Hermione looked down at the four Muggle pregnancy tests she'd taken. How could she have been so stupid? She and Ron barely slept together these days. She was either going to have to seduce him tonight, or ruin everything. It wasn't even a choice, not really. She groaned and vanished the evidence of her betrayal. She would have to buy an aphrodisiac at the apothecary on her way home from work. Slipping that into Ron's dinner was the best bet. If she did it every night for a week, it would be believable, right?

Merlin, she didn't even want to think about what Bill and Charlie would say when she announced her pregnancy to the family.

_**~Fin~**_


	17. Insanity

**Created for Hermione's Haven Bingo 2019 Fest! This is for my N2 square which was the prompt: Creature. No beta, just Grammarly. If you love this (or hate it) please let me know about in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff.**

**FYI - I posted 2 updates to this story yesterday, so make sure to read them both! Nine Mistakes chapter 15 and Slip chapter 16.**

**Pairing: General Hermione Granger**

**Rating: T**

**Summary: It's insanity and Hermione hates it, not because of what she becomes but because of what it means she isn't any longer.**

* * *

**Insanity**

* * *

"This is insanity," Hermione spat as her hands turned into actual claws. She looked at both of her parents with fire in her eyes.

"We didn't say it would be easy, darling," her mum tried.

Hermione hissed. Like a giant bird, she actually hissed. It was rather embarrassing.

"Try not to get so upset, pumpkin," her dad said, "it'll make it worse."

"This isn't bad enough?" Hermione screeched. Now her back itched. Terribly, right between her shoulder blades. A quick glance over her shoulders confirmed it. She had a giant pair of white wings fluttering from her back. They stood at least three feet above her head.

"Those are new," her mum said.

"This isn't helping!" Hermione shouted. "How could you have kept this very _vital_ information from me all these years?"

"Well, it's not like we knew you'd be a vee-what's-it," her dad said.

"Veela," Hermione snapped. "I'm somehow a Veela. Did you catch the name of the sperm and egg donors at all?"

Her mum shook her head and Hermione growled. She turned her back on her parents as she tried to assimilate all of the new information. She was a Veela. A freaking Veela. Which meant she wasn't a Muggle-born at all and that fact right there was what was tearing her up the most. She had _prided_ herself on being a Muggle-born. And now, just like that, she wasn't. It felt like an absolute betrayal of everything in her life. Worse than not knowing she was adopted, worse than finding out she was a Veela even.

"I'm sure we can find someone to help," her dad said.

"I already know a quarter-Veela," Hermione muttered all of her energy drained from her. Her wings drooped and then disappeared entirely with another very itchy sensation between her shoulder blades. "I'll go owl her now."

And what would she say to Fleur? Help, turns out I'm adopted and a Veela? How ridiculous. When had her life turned into something so damned insane?

_**~Fin~**_


	18. The Organization

**Created for Hermione's Haven Bingo 2019 Fest! This is for my N3 square which was the free square!**

**This story came about because of a Tumblr writing prompt:**

_**Tumblr writing-prompt-s**_

_**One day, you lose your wallet, and it is found by a mob boss, who figures out that you aren't in such a good place financially, and takes pity on you. So they start anonymously sending cash, clothes, and furniture to you in the mail, eventually, the mob boss sends you a letter to you stating that they bought you a house and it lists and address. What do you do?**_

_**Tumblr writingmyselfintoanearlygrave**_

_**In this economy? Thank them politely, pledge your loyalty, and join the mob.**_

**No beta, just Grammarly. If you love this (or hate it) please let me know about in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff.**

**Pairing: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy**

**Rating: M**

**Summary: Hermione Granger is a broke university student whose life intersects with Draco Malfoy, head of the Malfoy crime family. Hermione wants nothing to do with Draco, but she finds herself backed into a corner with nowhere else to turn.**

* * *

**The Organization**

* * *

"Shit, shit, shit," Hermione Granger mumbled to herself as she dug through her handbag searching for her wallet. It wasn't there. Where the hell could she have left it? She thought back to all the places she'd been that day, the coffee shop in the morning, the cafe for lunch…

"Hey, you going to pay for this?" the bartender tapped the bill he'd set on the bar. Hermione looked longingly at the pint and sighed.

"Sorry, I seem to have misplaced my wallet."

"No wallet, no beer," the bartender groused and took the pint glass away. Hermione groaned. All she'd been looking forward to all day was a pint at the pub before heading up to her flat to work on her psych paper. She sighed heavily and trudged out of the bar. Both the coffee shop and the cafe would be closed by now. She suspected it was at the cafe because she had definitely paid there, hadn't she? Now she couldn't remember.

Hermione slipped out of the crowded pub just as a large group of men went inside. She should just work on the psych paper with a clear head anyway and went back to her tiny studio flat. It would save her some money to live with flatmates, but Hermione had tried that last year and it didn't work out well. So she spent almost every dime she had to rent an expensive flat in Hogsmeade near Hogwarts University. Maybe she should have gone to City College in London where her parents wanted her to go, but the first look at the gorgeous Scottish campus of Hogwarts and Hermione was in love. It helped that Hogwarts Industrial and Organizational Psychology program was the top in the nation.

Hermione walked the three blocks to her flat above a small, independent book store. Unlocking the door, she blocked her cat, Crookshanks from leaving, before slipping through and dropping her handbag and her backpack by the door. Hermione puttered around her flat, feeding Crooks, grabbing a sandwich for herself before sitting down in front of her laptop. Her paper wasn't due for another week, but Hermione liked to complete her work with plenty of time to spare.

* * *

Three days later, a large, mysterious envelope was pushed under her door. Hermione stared at it for a long moment before picking it up. The front of her building was locked, nobody should have been able to access the door to her flat except for her landlord and her neighbor Mr. Filch. Filch was a mean old thing, with an even meaner cat that Hermione avoided like the plague.

It was a plain, manilla envelope, that was quite thick. Thick enough to hold her missing wallet actually. That was the thought that made her bend down and pick it up. The envelope wasn't sealed and Hermione opened the flap and peered inside. Sure enough, her gold wallet was inside as was a bundle of pounds wrapped in a rubber band. Hermione pulled out her wallet first, inspecting it to make sure she wasn't missing anything, but it was all there. Her identification, her bank and credit cards, even the twenty pounds was in there. Hermione stuffed her wallet into her purse, hanging on the hook by the door and slowly withdrew the wad of money from the envelope. They were all one hundred pound notes. She fanned through them in disbelief. Whoever had returned her wallet had returned it with at least a thousand pounds cash.

Hermione put the cash back in the envelope and shoved the whole thing into a drawer in her entrance table. She looked around as if she thought she was being observed and then laughed at herself. She was alone in her flat. Nobody was watching her. But why had the good Samaritan given her so much money? It didn't make sense. She shook her head and glanced at her watch, realizing she was about to be late, she grabbed both her handbag and backpack and dashed out her door and up the street for campus.

* * *

A week after the cash had been delivered, Hermione returned to her flat to find a large box sitting on her doorstep. She hadn't ordered anything, nor was she expecting a delivery, but the label on the box showed that it was addressed to her. She glanced over her shoulder at Mr. Filch's door, but it was closed. Frowning, Hermione unlocked her door and shoved the box inside with her feet. It didn't feel too heavy, but she couldn't for the life of her figure out what it was. Maybe her parents had sent her something?

Her heart caught in her throat and she shook her head. Of course, her parents hadn't sent anything. It was why she was in this situation, to begin with. Her parents had been killed in a car accident the year before. They'd owed quite a bit of debt on their dental practice, and instead of leaving their daughter with a small inheritance, they'd left her with practically nothing. They'd been helping to pay the rent before their death, and now Hermione was responsible for it on her own.

Hermione went through her evening chores before settling on her sofa with the box between her feet. The return address was Harrods. She knew she hadn't ordered anything from the department store, but it was her name and address on the box. Hermione grabbed her scissors and cut the tape of the box, pulling the flaps open. Inside was a month's worth of new clothes, jeans, slacks, dresses, even lingerie, all in Hermione's size. She looked at the entire box with something like horror mixed with fascination.

Did she have a stalker? Who in the world would send her a box of clothes? How did they know her size? Was it the same person who had given her a thousand pounds? She shoved the box into the far corner of her flat and eyed it warily. Just like the money, she knew she couldn't touch what was in the box. She needed to pay more attention to her surroundings. It was clear that someone was following her.

That night, Hermione checked the locks on her doors and windows three times before crawling into bed and still, it took her a long while to fall asleep.

* * *

Two weeks after the clothes arrived, more cash arrived, this time, with a note.

_The clothes were a gift. I expect nothing from you._

It was unsigned. There were two thousand pounds in the envelope. Hermione's heart beat faster. Whoever her anonymous benefactor was, he or she was keeping tabs on her. They had known she wasn't wearing the clothes. Someone was definitely watching her.

Did they have good intentions though? The note hadn't suggested a meeting. It even said they expected nothing. But Hermione couldn't help but feel that if she wore the clothes then she was signing herself up for something she wanted no part of. What that _something _was, she still had no idea. But nothing about this situation felt right to her. She shoved the envelope of cash next to the first one in her entry table drawer. Maybe if she just ignored it, the whole thing would go away. Maybe her benefactor would give up.

Draco Malfoy had a difficult job. It wasn't something he ever imagined he'd be doing as a child. As a child, he'd always thought it would be fun to be a detective, solving crimes. That was before he figured out what his father did for a living. Now his father was dead and Draco had a choice to make. He could follow in his father's footsteps or allow someone else to take the reins of the Malfoy crime family and possibly be killed within the year. The choice was obvious to Draco. At the ripe age of twenty-one, Draco led the Malfoy crime family ruthlessly.

He preferred to think of it less as crime and more as providing a marketplace for items that couldn't be sold above ground for whatever reason. He held numerous properties across the country where less savory folks could buy, sell, and trade goods that were difficult to come by. As the hosts of said sales, the Malfoy family earned a hefty percentage of each sale.

Of course, the Malfoy family hadn't always been this uninvolved in the sale of illegal goods, but Draco had wanted to remove as much of the _stink_ as he could from the family name. Malfoy was starting to become a rather popular name in other circles as well, and Draco began investing in actual legitimate businesses.

It was all so boring now, three years after his take-over of the family that when he'd stumbled across a woman's wallet outside of a cafe he decided to take a personal interest. It had only taken his best tracker, Blaise Zabini, a day and a half to find the woman. Draco had pondered what to do with the wallet when Zabini had come back with more news. Apparently, she was a student at Hogwarts University and almost destitute. Her bank account barely had any money in it and she was a month behind in paying her rent. It was a small thing, but when Draco returned the wallet, he decided to return it with a small gift.

It warmed his heart to think that he was helping someone who needed it. He didn't think of her again until a few days later when Zabini had come to him again. The woman, Hermione Granger, was wearing the same clothes, over and over again. She either hadn't spent the money or used it on something she thought was more important than clothes. Draco hadn't even set eyes on her, beyond the photo on her identification. He bade Zabini to outfit her with some clothes from Harrods, handing over a wad of cash for the purchase.

Again, Draco put her out of his mind.

Three weeks after finding the wallet, Zabini was knocking on his office door again.

"Yes?" Draco said distractedly as he was looking across his accounts. The London warehouse hadn't taken in as much money last month as it should have. He'd have to get Nott in his office to discuss.

"It's about the girl," Zabini said, slipping into the chair before Draco's desk. Draco looked up and frowned.

"What girl?" Draco lifted his eyebrow.

"Hermione Granger," Zabini sighed.

"Oh, right, what about her again?" Draco asked.

"She's not wearing the clothes we sent."

"Why not?"

Zabini shrugged. Draco frowned. Perhaps she wasn't sure of their altruistic intentions. He scribbled out a quick note and opened his middle desk drawer. Under the false bottom, he quickly counted out a couple of thousand pounds and handed the note and the cash to Zabini.

"Make sure she gets this," Draco said and waved Zabini from the office.

Once more, he put her out of his mind. As much as he'd like to think about a pretty co-ed, he had much more important things to deal with than this.

* * *

Six weeks after finding the wallet, Draco Malfoy found himself sitting inside Hermione Granger's flat. She wasn't home though. Zabini had used his lock picking skills to get them both inside. A quick glance through her cupboards and fridge and showed they were empty. Draco frowned when he spotted the box from Harrods in the corner.

He settled on her sofa to wait until she came home, Zabini standing behind him, and her cat eyeing them warily from its bed on the far wall near the telly. It wasn't long before a key rattled in the lock. Draco took a breath and let it out slowly the door eased open.

"Crooks?" a soft voice called out. The cat didn't move.

The door shut and the woman gasped. Draco's back was to her.

"I don't want any trouble," she said. "I don't have much but you're welcome to—"

"I'm not here to rob you," Draco scoffed, standing quickly and turning to face her.

The photo on her identification didn't do her justice, they never did. She was beautiful even in her terror. Her dark brown eyes widened at seeing him. Her brow furrowed.

"I know you," she whispered.

"Draco Malfoy," Draco said extending his hand. She just looked at it. "This is my associate, Blaise Zabini." Draco gestured to Zabini.

The woman crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes at him. "What are you doing in my flat?"

Draco sighed, running a hand through his hair. He glanced at the opened but unworn box of clothes in the corner. "Not to your style?"

"I'm not a charity case," she hissed. "I don't know what you want with me or why but I want no business with mobsters."

Draco chuckled. She had spirit, which he found he liked. He edged around the sofa and gestured to her kitchen. "No charity then but since it looks like you haven't been to the grocers this week perhaps I could buy you dinner?"

Zabini made a noise in the back of his throat that Draco ignored.

"I told you, I don't need you—" she was interrupted by her stomach growling.

Draco smirked.

"Fine. But the goon doesn't come with," Granger said.

"Zabini thanks for your help today," Draco said dismissing him. Zabini made another noise in his throat and Draco waved his hand toward the door. Frowning at him Zabini left the small flat.

"Why was he following me?"

Draco considered her for a long moment. "How do you know he was following you?"

She snorted. "I'm not an idiot. I'm reasonably aware of my surroundings. Maybe I didn't catch him that first week, but since then? He's like clockwork three or four days a week, following me around like a puppy dog."

Draco laughed then. He wasn't pleased that Zabini had been made so easily but he found it interesting that she _had_ made him.

"Dinner then?" Draco asked.

"Fine. But only because I'm hungry and too tired to cook something myself." They both ignored the fact that she had no food in the flat.

Granger led the way out of the flat, making a point to lock it behind her. Once they were on the street, Draco held out his arm for her and she hesitantly took it. He led her down the street to a pub he knew a few short blocks from her flat.

She didn't say a word to him until they were settled in a back booth of the pub and had each ordered a pint and a shepherd's pie.

"What do you want?" she asked, eyeing him with deep suspicion.

Draco sighed and sipped his pint. This had all started as a bit of a lark. He wanted to help someone out who was clearly struggling, but now he wasn't sure what he wanted. She intrigued him.

"Honestly, I was just trying to help you out," Draco said. "You seemed down on your luck."

"And the clothes?" Granger asked.

Draco shrugged. "Zabini told me you wore the same things over and over again, so I had him pick some items out for you at Harrods. If they aren't to your liking we can send them back."

"I don't understand why?"

Draco laughed. "Me either, love."

She narrowed her eyes at the endearment. "You have to have some explanation."

"My line of work is dull and often unrewarding. I happened across your wallet outside of a cafe and decided to return it to you. When I had Zabini look you up, he founds some items on the public record that indicated you were perhaps in need of more than your wallet." He shrugged again. He didn't like how sappy this all sounded. He really wasn't that altruistic and honestly, if she hadn't been gorgeous, he probably wouldn't have bothered with even this. Zabini had been the one who pushed him along, but he also didn't necessarily want to admit that.

She eyed him warily for a moment. The waitress came back with their meal and instead of responding, she dug into her food as if she hadn't eaten all day. And judging by the state of her cupboards, Draco was guessing she hadn't. He shouldn't ask the question that was on the tip of his tongue, and usually, he had more tact than this, but he couldn't seem to stop himself.

"What did you do with the money?"

She glanced up at him. "It's in my flat still."

Draco furrowed his brow. "You didn't spend it."

She shook her head. "It doesn't belong to me."

"It was a gift."

"I don't want it." She put down her utensils and glared at him. "I don't want your charity. And I especially don't want your money. I know what you do, Draco Malfoy. You are a gangster, a mobster, you and your 'associates' are all over the news," she hissed. "I don't want your dirty money."

Part of Draco was angry that she spoke to him that way. Almost nobody spoke to him like that. But another part of him was amused. He had as many legitimate business interests these days as he had illegitimate, but he knew the reputation of the Malfoy name.

"And if I promised you the money I gave you was from a legitimate source?" Draco asked.

Granger scoffed. "As if you _could_ promise that."

"I have legitimate businesses," Draco said. "Quite a few of them."

"And your accounting?"

"All above board, I assure you," Draco grinned. "Otherwise, I would have the police all over me."

She frowned and changed the subject. Draco let her but knew that if he continued his association with her, then the money issue would come up again.

* * *

_Fuck_, Hermione thought as she looked at her bill for her last semester of school. It was two weeks since her slightly awkward dinner with Malfoy and despite trying her best to not think of it, it seemed to be the only thing on her mind.

She compared her tuition bill to what was in her bank account, or rather, what wasn't in her bank account. She was so damned close to finishing. She sighed and dropped the invoice to her table, digging the heel of her palms into her eyes in frustration. So close, and yet, so far away. She could probably pick up a few more shifts at the bookstore downstairs, but that wasn't going to be near enough to pay her rent and her tuition. The three thousand pounds in the drawer by the entrance of her flat was like a millstone around her neck. She could desperately use the money, but spending it felt like she would be signing up to be part of Malfoy's crime family and that was the last thing she wanted to do. She would just have to take a semester or two off.

A week later, Mr Filch had slipped an eviction notice under her door. She was two months behind on rent and if she didn't settle up within the next month, she wouldn't have a place to live at all. The current semester was over in two weeks. Hermione grit her teeth. She didn't want to cry and she certainly didn't want any charity, but even the three thousand pounds in her entryway table was not going to be enough to cover both back rent and tuition. The three thousand pounds would take care of her rent, but then she'd fall right back to where she was now with no money and not enough income to pay for future months.

Hermione pulled her cell phone out and thumbed through the contacts. Malfoy had insisted he put his phone number in it, in case she needed anything. She had scoffed at the time and expected for him to text her nonstop, but surprisingly, he hadn't contacted her at all. She didn't know what that meant. And she certainly didn't _want_ to contact him, but right now, he was kind of her only hope.

There was a pit in her stomach as she quickly typed out the message and hit send. _Can we talk?_ She locked the phone and threw it onto the sofa, moving into her kitchen to feed Crookshanks. That was one thing she always made sure she had money for. Crookshanks hadn't picked her, she'd picked him, which meant she was responsible for feeding him, but if she didn't find a way to make some money fast, she was going to fail even that small responsibility. None of it sat right with her. And when her phone vibrated softly against the sofa cushions, she ignored it for at least five minutes. It buzzed again and that's when her desire to see his response was too overwhelming to ignore.

_In the middle of a negotiation._ She frowned and wondered if that was a euphemism for something she didn't want to think about.

_I'll come by later. Dinner?_ She bit her lip as she thought about it. She only had an old packet of crisps from lunch two days ago.

_Fine._ She texted back and decided that she at least had some time to get some studying done for her upcoming exams.

* * *

The thrill that went through Draco when he'd received a text from Granger was positively obscene. He couldn't stop thinking about her and had stopped himself half a dozen times from texting her. He couldn't help but be intrigued by her. She was like his complete opposite. Good, wholesome, not a criminal. It wasn't that he wanted to corrupt her, more like he wanted her to teach him how to be like her. He didn't particularly care for the line of business he'd found himself in, but it was a sink or swim world and Draco chose to be one of the sharks.

He hadn't lied, he was in the middle of a negotiation. He had put some money into a line of menswear that wasn't going well. He didn't want to lose his figurative shirt on the deal, so he decided to renegotiate. He knew a few designers and marketing people could help the brand, but if he put his people on it, he wanted a better percentage on his return on investment.

"We can't do forty percent," the CEO of the menswear line shook his head. "Claude won't accept it."

"Is Claude ready to accept bankruptcy then?" Draco asked. He wasn't trying to be manipulative, but if he pulled his funding, the line would fold.

"Of course not, Mr Malfoy, but forty percent is too much."

"Fine, what can you do? You'll recall I bought in for twenty-five," Draco countered.

"Twenty-seven."

Draco laughed. "You want three million more pounds and are willing to give me an additional two percent. No, I'm afraid you are out of your mind, Bijon." He narrowed his eyes. "Thirty-seven."

"Thirty," Bijon replied.

"Thirty-five."

"Fine, Claude will accept thirty-five."

"Excellent, have the papers drawn up. I'm late for another meeting." Draco stood and shook Bijon's hand then left the room quickly. The designer was in Edinburgh which was a good hour and a half from Hogsmeade, if he hurried, he could get to Granger's flat by eight.

_Be there at eight._ Draco texted as he hurried past the elevator and took the stairs down to the parking garage.

* * *

Hermione was a nervous wreck by the time eight rolled around that evening. She'd changed three times and had even opened the box from Harrods that still sat in the corner of her flat before closing it once more. She wouldn't wear anything out of it now. Maybe after. If they came to terms, but not now. She had one of her books open on her lap, but she hadn't actually read anything from it. Instead, she was too busy biting her nails and attempting to calm her racing heart. Did she know what she was doing? She hoped so. Malfoy had said he had legitimate businesses. Perhaps, if she could work for one of those, her conscience wouldn't prick at her so much.

The knock on her door startled her so much, she dropped the book. It landed on the floor with a dull thud. Hermione picked it up quickly and crossed the small flat. She sucked in a breath when she opened the door and saw Malfoy standing on the other side. He looked good. Really good. Hermione drank in the sight of him even as her heart fluttered uselessly in her chest.

"Uh, come in," Hermione stuttered, stepping back to allow him in.

He stepped inside and quirked an eyebrow at her. "Did you cook?"

Hermione reddened. She didn't have any food in the house unless you counted Crooks's kibble.

"Let's go to the pub," he offered.

"Alright," Hermione said. She felt tense and picked up her handbag as she led him out of her flat, locking the door quickly and down onto the street.

"Where do you work?" Malfoy asked. He had looped her hand around his elbow so casually that Hermione almost hadn't realized it was happening until her fingers were resting on his elbow.

"Oh, you don't know already?" Hermione asked snidely. Then immediately felt embarrassed. She was going to beg for a job in a few minutes and he certainly wouldn't be giving her one with the attitude she had now.

Surprisingly, Malfoy laughed. "I'm sure Zabini knows, and he probably told me. I don't recall though. I truly am not a stalker, Hermione."

She shivered at the sound of her name on his lips. "The bookstore beneath my flat, actually."

"Do you like reading then?" Malfoy asked. They were at the pub and he held the door for her. It was a Friday evening, so it was bustling more than the last time they had been there, but they were able to secure a booth near the back. It was on the far side of the pub than the bar, which meant it was slightly less noisy than the rest of the space.

"I do," Hermione nodded. She felt like she ought to say something else, but her brain went blank when he took off his sport coat. The plain, white, button-up shirt beneath was practically molded to his chest. She licked her suddenly dry lips and quickly sat across from him.

After a few minutes of studying the menu, and avoiding her companion, he cleared his throat.

"You asked for this meeting," he reminded her softly.

Hermione bit her lip and set the menu on the table. She had thought over every angle of this conversation ever since she sent that text earlier in the day, but now she couldn't decide how to begin.

"Hermione?" he prompted.

"You said you had legitimate businesses?" Hermione asked quickly, finally looking up at him. She was half afraid he would be smirking at her. He seemed to do that a lot, but he wasn't. His face was very carefully blank.

"I do," he confirmed with a slight nod.

"Right, well...I need a job," she said finally. "I would obviously only want to work for a legitimate business, but I only have one semester of school left, and I'm two months behind in my rent on the apartment. I can quit the bookstore if you need more hours, but I'd prefer to not take any time off of school if I can help it. I—"

"What's your major?" Malfoy asked. He leaned back into his booth and was eyeing her speculatively.

"Industrial and Organizational Psychology, it's like psychology, but specifically geared for the workplace. Sort of like a beefed-up version of human resources, but with a focus on employees rather than the employer," Hermione replied. "It can be both for research purposes, but also large organizations usually like to have a handful on staff to ensure employee happiness and curb turnover."

"And which would you prefer doing?" Malfoy asked. "Research or human resources?"

"I, well, I'd prefer research, but honestly, I'd take a job doing anything that paid more than the bookstore," Hermione admitted.

"How much is your tuition for the next semester?" Malfoy had a contemplative look on his face and Hermione's stomach clenched. Suddenly, she wasn't sure this was such a good idea. Surely, she could take a semester or two off and then come back right?

"I don't know if this was a good idea," Hermione said quickly, shaking her head.

"Wait," Malfoy stopped her by reaching across the table to cover her hand with his. "I would rather go into any sort of arrangement, knowing what the entire deal is. That includes what you owe for school and rent, if necessary. We can come up with a plan that works for us both."

"Seventeen thousand," Hermione said. "For my last semester. Rent is a thousand a month, so the three thousand you've given me will cover, but not for much longer. And, I want to pay it all back."

"Of course, perhaps a contract would be in order?" Malfoy suggested. "I pay for tuition and living expenses, you get a small stipend, for the rest of the semester. Then after you've graduated, I will continue to pay living expenses and a small stipend, while the rest of your 'paycheck' pays for your debt to me."

"What's the interest rate?" Hermione asked. She wasn't stupid, or rather, she wasn't completely stupid not to think that he wouldn't be charging her some sort of interest. Otherwise, why would he even bother?

"No interest rate," Malfoy said. The waitress finally came by, interrupting them and taking their drinks and dinner order.

"I'll do it all for free, with the caveat that you sign a three-year contract. You may extend it, of course, if you decide you like working for me. And that I get to choose your living arrangements."

"I'm not moving in with you," Hermione said, her back stiffening.

Malfoy laughed. "Nor do I want you to. But why pay rent to some landlord, when I can have you live on a Malfoy property for free?"

That was reasonable enough. "The terms for repayment? What will my salary be both before graduation and after?"

Malfoy grinned at her. Hermione technically hadn't agreed yet, but somehow she knew she was going to say yes.

"What's the going rate for an I/O Psychologist?"

"Depends on what they do," Hermione said. "But the median salary is something like sixty thousand pounds a year."

"Fine, we'll start you there," Malfoy said. "Thirty thousand a year while you are in school since you won't be working full days. Then it will go to sixty thousand upon graduation."

Hermione did some quick calculations, she would definitely have the debt paid off by the time the three years on the contract was up. "What will you charge for rent of the house you plan to put me in?"

Malfoy smirked at her. "Free. I won't charge you a dime. I'll even allow you to stay after your debt has been paid if you so choose."

"I want to see a monthly accounting to ensure that it's all paid off in time," Hermione warned him.

"I do have legitimate accountants, that won't be a problem."

Hermione chewed her lip and was relieved when the waitress came back with their drinks. She took a sip of her beer to stall for time. It was now or never.

"I accept, pending the terms of the contract you present me," Hermione said stiffly.

"You'll have it by Monday afternoon," Malfoy grinned at her. He raised his beer, intending to clink their glasses and Hermione played along. "Cheers."

She nodded and took another sip, then looked around the pub. Now that the negotiation was over, she didn't know what to say.

"Aren't you going to ask where you'll be working?"

Hermione felt the blood drain from her face, of course, she'd forgotten that aspect entirely in the relief that she wouldn't have to take time off of school.

"I suppose we do have a few other details to discuss."

* * *

Two weeks later and Hermione was directing two huge brutes named Crabbe and Goyle, which boxes to pack into the moving lorry first. They were Malfoy's men of course. Malfoy himself wasn't able to be here for the move, but he assured her he would take care of it all. Mr Filch was eyeing her nastily from across the hall and Hermione did her best to ignore him. She had settled her bill with him and let him know she was planning to move out the day after the last time she'd seen Malfoy.

_How's it going?_ Her phone buzzed in her hand and she hated that her heart twitched when she read the message from Malfoy.

_Almost done_. Hermione hit send and looked around her mostly empty flat. It had been her home for the last few years and she felt sad that she was leaving it. She hadn't even seen the place that Malfoy planned to put her in, but she knew it was closer to the school, which only made Hermione's life easier.

It was also close to where her office would be. She was starting on Monday and felt rather nervous about her new job. She still wasn't quite clear on what exactly she was going to be doing. Malfoy had told her that she would be working directly for him in managing all of his _legitimate_ businesses and their employees.

"Are you a conglomeration then?" Hermione asked the last time she'd seen him, planning to do some Google research if she could just wrangle a company name out of him.

"Of sorts," Malfoy replied with a twitch of his lips. Hermione had let the matter drop after that. All she really needed was a legitimate company to put on her resume and she would be set. She'd put in her three years and leave Malfoy and his merry band for good.

* * *

_One Year Later_

Hermione groaned as Draco, and he was Draco now, kissed his way down her neck, nipping lightly at her collarbone.

"You sure about this?" Draco asked, his lips brushing against her skin as he spoke. Was she sure about this? She didn't know, but the thought of not sleeping with Draco right then and there almost broke her.

"Yes," she groaned as she lifted her leg around his hips, trying to get closer. "God, yes. Please, Draco, don't make me wait."

Draco's eyes darkened and he cupped the back of her neck as he kissed her fiercely.

Hermione couldn't pinpoint the exact point in time that Malfoy had become Draco or the point that made her decide to sleep with him, it had crept over her so slowly. All she knew now, was that she was lost to this man. This beautiful, brilliant man. And truly, the legitimate and illegitimate empire he had built for himself _was_ brilliant. Hermione had been in awe of it for the last few months, once he had finally given her access to everything.

The kicker of the whole situation, Hermione was really good at what she did. She was good at organizing Draco's workforce in a way that made sense. She managed to get some of the talent that worked in the illegitimate factions to thrive in the legitimate businesses, which meant that the illegitimate side began shrinking.

She never would have guessed at the start of all this that Draco wanted _out_ of the criminal game. She had chalked him up as a gangster and it had taken the better part of a year for her to realize that his legitimate businesses were his attempt to remake himself and the Malfoy name. Once she'd figured that out, she'd done everything in her arsenal to make it successful for him. If he became legitimate than all of Hermione's conflicting feelings toward him would be resolved, right?

Draco's hand dragged down the collar of the dress she had been wearing, exposing her bra and Hermione arched her back. They should definitely not be doing this here and not when they had guests, but Draco had given her a look so smoldering that she had gone week at the knees. When she escaped the ballroom to try and settle herself, he'd followed her. Now they were in his study with her back pressed to the door and Draco pressed to her.

"Draco," Hermione muttered as he twirled his tongue around her lace-clad nipple. Her hands were buried in his hair.

"Take off the dress, Hermione," Draco commanded in his deep voice. It made a shiver go down Hermione's back. She reached behind her, finding the zipper and yanking it down, allowing the dress to pool at her feet.

Draco had the zipper to his trousers open and both of Hermione's legs around his waist faster than Hermione thought possible. He tugged her knickers to one side and she gasped as she felt his hot, hard steel at her entrance.

"Yes, please, Draco!" Hermione begged at his silent question. He breathed heavily and she watched in fascination as his eyes fluttered as he slowly, so slowly slid inside her. It was overwhelming, to say the least, he seemed to be all around her and she clung to him as he began a steady rhythm. He pressed her hips into the door and pressed his lips against hers to stifle her moans.

She bit his bottom lip and smirked when Draco groaned and increased his pace. Hermione slid her nails down his back, trying to get him closer to her, even as he pounded into her body.

"Fucking hell," Draco muttered and dropped his head into her shoulder. "Feel so fucking good. Knew you would."

Hermione laughed lightly and squeezed her inner walls around him. He hissed and his hands at her hips tightened their grip as he sped up.

"Touch yourself, princess," Draco muttered. "I need to watch you come."

Hermione nodded and slipped a hand between them. She was so close already, it only took a few presses of her middle finger before she was arching her back. Her head thudded against the door behind her as she cried out through her orgasm.

"Fucking Christ," Draco grunted and sped up to an impossibly fast pace, he stuttered for a moment before groaning and coming inside her. They were both panting by the time they were finished.

"Think everyone heard that," Draco whispered.

"They had to," Hermione snickered. "Oh, God, how am I going to face everyone?"

"With a smirk and a wink," Draco suggested as he slowly let her down. He kept his hands on her waist steadying her. Hermione was grateful for the support as her legs felt wobbly.

"At least we managed not to rip your dress," Draco said as he picked it up and helped her back into it.

"I have your come dripping down my leg," Hermione groaned. "I need to clean it up."

"Don't," Draco said, stopping her before she could leave for the bathroom. "Your dress is long, it'll cover it."

Hermione gave him a look.

"The idea of you walking out there with my come still on you makes me want to fuck you against this door again," Draco admitted. Hermione smirked at that and nodded her head in acquiescence.

She patted her hair, hoping that it was mostly contained in her chignon, while Draco tucked himself away. He led the way out of his study and back to the ballroom with her hand clasped firmly in his. She couldn't have predicted that this was how her life was going to turn out just a year ago, but now that she was here, with Draco, nothing else mattered.

_**~Fin~**_


	19. Old Blue Eyes

**Created for Hermione's Haven Bingo 2019 Fest! This is for my N4 square which was the prompt: Why are you hiding behind me? What did you do?**

**No beta, just Grammarly. If you love this (or hate it) please let me know about in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff.**

**Pairing: Hermione Granger General**

**Rating: G**

**Summary: ****While Hermione is a visiting scholar to Hogwarts one summer, Crookshanks gets up to no good.**

* * *

**Old Blue Eyes**

* * *

Hermione bustled around the lab. She had six cauldrons going in this room and another four in the other room. She was at the point in her Potions Mastery that for experimental potions she could deftly handle ten iterations at once. Especially if she had all the ingredients prepared ahead of time. She was just grateful that Headmistress McGonagall had given her space with which to work. The headmistress had cleared out two old dungeon storage rooms for Hermione's use. She didn't have time during the school year to deal with all of the experiments she wanted to run, so she was grateful when McGonagall had invited her to Hogwarts for the summer to run her experiments here. It helped McGonagall that anything she published would be tied to the school.

She had just finished stirring one of the potions when Crookshanks darted into the lab and hid behind her.

"Why are you hiding behind me? What did you do?" Hermione asked her familiar. Crookshanks looked at her plaintively.

Before Hermione could say anything else, another cat sauntered into the lab. This one was bright white, with long fur and looked as snooty as any purebred Persian Hermione had ever seen.

"And who are you?" Hermione asked the newcomer. The white cat hissed at Crookshanks before meowing at Hermione.

"Crookshanks?" Hermione asked her familiar. The potions she was working on were variants of an Animagus potion. "Shit," Hermione muttered and swept out of the room to check the other set of cauldrons.

Sure enough, a cauldron was spilled and about half of the potion missing.

The white cat had followed her and meowed again.

"Merlin, I'm so sorry!" Hermione said, holding out her hand. The cat looked at her balefully with the palest blue eyes Hermione had ever seen before giving her fingers a sniff. Hermione scratched the beautiful cat between the ears and the cat purred. "It's going to take a couple of days for me to make the antidote," Hermione said. "If you can get along with Crookshanks, I can make a space for you in my guest quarters until we get this fixed."

The cat merowed, a sound Hermione took for acceptance.

Flicking her wand, Hermione cleaned up the mess and began working on the base for the antidote. As she worked, she tried to figure out who exactly the white cat was. But she didn't know which professors were in residence over the summer. Or it could be a visiting scholar like her. Whoever it was, Hermione hoped they wouldn't be too upset by the time they finally returned to human.

* * *

It took two weeks to get the right iteration of the antidote. Two weeks of having two large cats underfoot. Crookshanks barely tolerated the white cat and the white cat—who Hermione had taken to calling Frank as in Old Blue Eyes Frank Sinatra—loved to do whatever he could to antagonize Crooks. Poor Crooks had taken to sleeping anywhere except Hermione's guest quarters when the white cat had taken his space on the bed.

Finally, Hermione was sure this antidote would work. "Alright, ready Frank?" Hermione asked the white cat who just stared at her.

"'Course you are," Hermione muttered to herself. She spritzed the antidote over the entire cat and watched in disbelief as Draco Malfoy took shape in front of her.

"Nice bed, Granger," Malfoy said with a wink and a smirk before he sauntered out of her lab.

_**~Fin~**_


	20. Not Like This

**It wasn't supposed to happen like this. Not like this. For either of them. But the winter was cold and harsh.**

**Created for Hermione's Haven Bingo 2019 Fest! This is for my N5 square which was the prompt: First Time.**

**No beta, just Grammarly. If you love this (or hate it) please let me know about in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff.**

**Pairing: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter**

**Rating: M**

**Summary: ****It wasn't supposed to happen like this. Not like this. For either of them. But the winter was cold and harsh.**

* * *

**Not Like This**

* * *

It wasn't supposed to happen like this. Not like this. For either of them. But the winter was cold and harsh and Harry was sick of listening to Hermione cry. Probably as sick as Hermione was of crying. The first time they slept in the same bed, it was innocent. They huddled for warmth. The warming charms always failed halfway through the night. And prior to Ron leaving, all three had stayed in their own beds. Hermione insisted on it, to not leave Harry out.

But now that Ron was gone? The only thing she had to cling to was Harry. And day by day, Harry felt like he was losing his grip on reality. So he clung to the only thing he could: Hermione.

So the first time, it was innocent. It was innocent for the first week, really.

It was the second week when Hermione woke up to Harry's hand on her breast and his length pressed into her bum. She stiffened, not knowing what to do. Harry's hips shifted, his hand clenched and Hermione knew that the feelings she was experiencing were just hormones. It had been so long since she had even felt normal enough to feel arousal. When her body relaxed into Harry's she told herself it would just be for a moment. When Harry's fingers twitched around her nipple, causing it to harden beneath the jumper and bra she'd worn to bed he told himself that it was just a dream. When he smelled her hair and it smelled so much like Hermione that he couldn't even attempt to fool himself into thinking it was Ginny, he told himself that it was just for now.

Halfway through the second week, Hermione didn't wear a bra under her jumper when she crawled into bed with Harry. Really, they should have had someone standing guard, but it was hard to find the will to care with the locket whispering in their ears. When Harry's hand found her breast braless beneath her jumper he gasped. Just a small, quick intake of breath. Hermione ground her bum into his burgeoning length. Daringly, Harry's hand drifted down to the hem of her jumper and he slid two fingers beneath it, skin-on-skin. Hermione groaned at the contact. Harry took it as permission and slid his hand higher and higher until he was palming her bare breast.

Hermione's back arched as Harry's fingers pinched her nipple. She whimpered as the sensations caused an ache low in her belly.

"Harry," she whispered.

"Tell me," Harry insisted, his breath ghosting across the shell of her ear, causing her to break out in gooseflesh.

"Please," Hermione begged.

Harry's other hand found its way between Hermione's neck and the bed, then down the neck of her jumper and to her other breast. She bit her lip at the dual sensations on both nipples, whining deep in her throat. Then Harry slid his free hand down her abdomen to delve beneath the cotton trousers she wore. It was Harry's turn to hiss as his fingers encountered her wet folds.

"Merlin," he breathed as he wiggled his fingers around, feeling a witch for the first time. Hermione lifted her leg over Harry's hips, widening herself to his exploration. She was so slippery, so warm. Harry had always imagined what it would be like, but this, this he could not have imagined. It was better than anything he had ever imagined.

"Harry," Hermione said again, whining and arching her hips as the tension of her approaching climax wound like a coil inside her, tighter and tighter.

Harry had two fingers inside her now, the palm of his hand pressed against her clit and he leaned forward, pressing his lips to her neck just below her ear as he felt her walls clamp down around his fingers. He couldn't have moved them if he wanted to as the brilliant sensations of her orgasm swept over them both.

The moment her climax ebbed, Hermione rolled over to face him. She placed both hands on his cheeks and kissed him fiercely. For a long moment, Harry thought this was her way of saying thanks, but no thanks when he felt her small fingers begin to tug at his pajama trousers. He helped her pull them down, then reached and pulled her jumper from her, his jumper following hers.

When the jumper was off, Harry pushed her to her back and leaned forward kissing first one nipple then the other. Her hands wound themselves in his hair as she arched her back and cried out. They fumbled her trousers and knickers off her and suddenly they were both naked. Harry held himself above her, his elbows on either side of her head and he leaned forward to kiss her.

The look in her eyes made him think she was going to turn her head. The look in his eyes made Hermione think that she could love him in ways that weren't platonic. She kissed him as if her life depended on it. He kissed her as if she was his savior.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and after a few false starts, Harry slid inside her waiting warmth. He knew he wouldn't last, couldn't last, but if he died in the coming months, this is what he'd think about as he took his last breath. The feeling of warmth, of being encapsulated by this woman, this witch who had always stood by his side.

"Hermione," he breathed as he wrapped his arms around her, clinging to her. She had both arms and legs wrapped around him as though he were her life raft.

"Harry," Hermione hissed as he drew out and found a rhythm for them both.

Harry pressed his lips to hers. He wanted to swallow every noise she made as he worked to make her come apart in his arms again. After a particularly hard thrust, Hermione pulled away and cried out and Harry felt her beautiful, silken walls clamp down around him and he couldn't hold back. A few more shallow thrusts and he was following her onto the path of utter bliss.

After that first time, they couldn't keep their hands off each other. Each evening, instead of setting a guard, they repaired to the tent to find what pleasure they could in what their lives had become.

When Ron returned months later, they stopped. For Ron. For Ginny.

_**~Fin~**_


	21. Accidentally In Love

**Created for Hermione's Haven Bingo 2019 Fest! This is for my O1 square which was the quote: "Oh, my God. You're in love!" No beta, just Grammarly. If you love this (or hate it) please let me know about in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff.**

**Pairing: Hermione Granger/Thorfinn Rowle**

**Rating: T**

**Summary: Hermione doesn't realize she's in love until she has a conversation with Ginny about it.**

* * *

**Accidentally In Love**

* * *

"Oh my God. You're in love!" Ginny said jumping up and down in her seat.

"I am not, Gin!" Hermione protested. She frowned at her friend who was now clapping her hands in glee. She truly wasn't in love. In lust, sure, but love? No, not so much.

"You are! You are! I can see it in your eyes!" Ginny's delight was almost infectious. Almost. Hermione's frown turned into an outright scowl.

"It's impossible to be in love with someone after just a few weeks of dating," Hermione said. She attempted to keep the derision out of her voice, but some clearly slipped in based on the way Ginny was now smirking at her.

"Sure, you can," Ginny said, patting Hermione's arm. Hermione's glare did not lessen. "Seriously, let's look at the evidence, shall we?"

Hermione sighed, rolled her eyes, and indicated that Ginny should just carry on. Protesting at this point would prove futile, Hermione knew Ginny enough by now.

"First, he took you to your favorite restaurant."

"Not that hard to figure out since _Witch Weekly_ did that profile on me a few months ago," Hermione pointed out.

"Your favorite _Muggle_ restaurant. The man is a pure-blood who has likely never stepped foot out of Diagon Alley."

"Except for his work as a Death Eater that took him to many Muggle homes," Hermione said. Ginny waved her hand away as if the fact that he was a former Death Eater was negligible.

"_Reformed_ Death Eater. And he didn't speak of Quidditch once!" Ginny proclaimed.

"And he used to play professionally," Hermione begrudgingly admitted.

"See!" Ginny said, throwing her hands up in triumph.

"Really it more points to the fact that _he_ is in love with me. Not the other way around."

"Well, how about the fact that you can't stop thinking about him?"

Hermione frowned. That wasn't true, was it? She thought over the last few weeks trying to remember everything she'd done, and it all felt a little clouded by thoughts of him. Shit, Ginny was probably right. She did have a habit of thinking of him.

"Thinking about someone does not mean that you are in love with them," Hermione said.

"I knew it!" Ginny's voice was loud enough that Hermione was sure it would burst the _Muffliato_ she had placed around their table.

"Keep it down, Ginny. There's paparazzi from both the _Daily Prophet_ and _Witch Weekly_ right there." Hermione pointed her chin at the far corner of the restaurant where a flutter of camera lenses snapped.

"Oh, pish." Ginny waved her hand again. "The point is, you can't stop thinking about him. When are you seeing him next?"

"We haven't set anything formal up." Hermione shrugged. "He said he'd owl me."

The moment the words were out of her mouth, an owl approached their table from an open window.

"Who lets owls in a restaurant?" Hermione grumbled as the owl stuck his leg in her face. She untied the missive and gave the owl a piece of her roll. The owl took off out the open window.

"It's from him, isn't it?" Ginny grinned as Hermione unrolled the letter. She frowned. It was from him.

_Hermione,_

_Let's meet at your place at 8 tonight. I have something special planned._

_Yours,_

_Finn_

"It is," Hermione acknowledged with a tight nod.

"Ooo! Let me see! Let me see!" Ginny snatched the letter from Hermione, reading it quickly. "Yours! Oh, he's so romantic. And something special! What are you going to wear?"

Hermione found herself rolling her eyes again. "Whatever, Gin." She snatched the parchment back from her friend and tucked it into her handbag. It appeared she had to get ready for that evening.

_**~Fin~**_


	22. Spark

**Created for Hermione's Haven Bingo 2019 Fest! This is for my O2 square which was the pairing: Hermione Granger/Viktor Krum. No beta, just Grammarly. If you love this (or hate it) please let me know about in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff.**

**Pairing: Hermione Granger/Viktor Krum**

**Rating: M**

**Summary: Hermione had expected that going to the Quidditch World Cup would be mostly boring, with perhaps a few thrills if the game was particularly interesting. She definitely didn't expect to meet up with an old flame.**

* * *

**Spark**

* * *

Hermione was thoroughly regretting her decision to allow Harry and Ron to drag her along to the Quidditch World Cup. The first one she went to back in fourth year was fun, but terrifying by the end and she'd resolved never to attend one again.

But here she was, weaving her way through the concourse to get to the box Harry and Ron had procured. Bulgaria was playing Canada and frankly, Hermione could care less about either of these teams. Except, of course, Viktor Krum was still playing as Seeker for Bulgaria. She and Viktor had lost contact the year before the war. Hermione had been busy pining over Ron and Viktor had been busy playing Quidditch. Hermione was embarrassed to even admit that she hadn't followed Viktor's career, although Harry and Ron had assumed she was, hence the invite today.

She swore silently as she climbed the hundreds of stairs up to the box Ron and Harry had procured seats in. She didn't even know why she was bothering, but a small frisson of excitement as seeing Viktor again flipped through her belly. She probably wouldn't even see him, but still, she couldn't help but hope, even if just a little.

Finally, Hermione made it to the box and opened to doors to find that neither Harry nor Ron were even here yet. Wonderful. She'd have to make small talk with, she closed her eyes and sighed. She was in the Ministry's box, why hadn't she realized?

"Hermione! Good to see you!" Shacklebolt boomed as he strode across the box and shook her hand. "So glad you could make it! Harry said he wasn't sure the last time I spoke with him."

"Ah, yes, I wasn't sure myself actually," Hermione smiled tightly. She liked Kingsley, but he had become more and more of a politician in the last few years and every conversation she had with him had her wishing she could wash her hands afterward.

"Well, glad you could be here. Have you met the Minister of Canada yet?" Kingsley placed his arm around Hermione's shoulders and led her toward a tall, reedy looking man. At least, he looked kind. The Canadian Minister was, of course, in talks with the Bulgarian Minister.

"I hear you know our Seeker, Miss Granger," the Bulgarian Minister smiled down at her. It looked lecherous, but Hermione hoped that was just her imagination.

"Yes, Viktor and I met when he was in the Triwizard Tournament back in '94. I'm afraid, we haven't kept in touch over the years."

"Ah, yes, I remember now," the Canadian Minister said. "You were involved with him weren't you?"

Hermione reddened. This was so embarrassing. "Briefly," Hermione said, not bothering to smile at all. "If you'll excuse me," Hermione muttered and escaped the circle of politicians, hoping that Harry or Ron would show up soon.

Thankfully, it wasn't long before Ron barrelled through the door, Harry on his heels.

"Merlin, we're glad to see you!" Ron said, throwing his arm around Hermione's shoulders. "We thought for sure we'd miss the start." He led her down toward their seats in the front row of the box and Hermione was happy to be sitting between the two of them. Between them, they fended off anyone who bothered to attempt to speak with her.

Somehow, as the female third of the 'Golden Trio', she attracted by far the most attention from the public. Either because she was determined to be an easy mark or just because she was a witch, Hermione wasn't sure. The result had her often, holding back hexes as people asked impertinent question after impertinent question. Harry and Ron were good bodyguards against that kind of thing though, and Hermione was thankful that they acted in that stead without her having to ask.

The third time the Bulgarian Minister attempted to draw her into a conversation, Harry finally spoke up.

"Minister, we're trying to watch the game, yeah?" Harry said with a note of finality in his voice and a glare in Kingsley's direction. Hermione hunched forward in her seat as Harry put his arm around the back of it.

"Don't worry about him," Harry whispered to her. "He's just jealous that he's never met Krum."

Hermione snorted into her drink and leaned into Harry's side as a silent thank you.

The game was exciting, with both sides scoring almost evenly back and forth. Hermione tried to keep up, but since she didn't follow Quidditch, some of it was just over her head.

Finally, about an hour and a half into the game, Krum spiraled high out of the top of the stadium. Harry and Ron pulled Hermione to her feet as they watched with bated breath. Krum's form got smaller and smaller. Even the Chasers stopped for a moment, as they watched the Canadian Seeker streak after Krum.

The announcer shouted about spotting the snitch and a moment later, Krum was doing a victory lap with the snitch firmly in his hand.

"Krum's done it again!" the announcer screamed. Harry and Ron were cheering and clapping wildly next to Hermione.

"KRUM! KRUM! KRUM!" the entire stadium was shouting in unison. Hermione was pleased for her old friend and clapped enthusiastically. She was happier that the match was over relatively quickly and she could have an excuse to leave early. No doubt the Ministery box would soon be overwhelmed with players. Perhaps during the chaos, she could slip out.

The Bulgarian Minister was beaming, flexing his suspenders and looking just the picture of someone who was sure of himself. The Canadian Minister was shaking hands morosely.

"Bet you're interested in seeing your old boyfriend again now," the Bulgarian Minister boomed over the crowd, looking directly at Hermione.

Hermione blanched as everyone in the box turned to look at her. Luckily, at just the same moment, the Bulgarian and Canadian teams swept through the door. The Canadians were grinning, despite their defeat. Viktor led the pack, and with all eyes on Hermione, he saw her first.

"Hermione!" he shouted as he hurried across the box toward where she was standing with Harry and Ron.

"Harry! Ron!" Viktor shook each of their hands, before wrapping Hermione in a huge bear hug and twirling her around.

"Viktor! It's good to see you!" Hermione laughed as he set her back on her feet.

"You are looking very good," Viktor grinned down at her. She blushed and had to agree. She'd forgotten how good Viktor looked in his Quidditch kit. He was looking very fit indeed.

"You as well," Hermione grinned. Viktor's hands were still around her waist and that was the moment the Bulgarian Minister chose to interrupt.

"Ah, Krum! Well done! Well done, indeed! And you've met your old friends, eh?" the Minister winked. Hermione was barely able to keep her lip from curling into a sneer.

"Minister Kirov, good to see you, sir," Viktor said, shaking the Minister's hand. Hermione was impressed at how well his English had improved over the years. And the way he played the game with the Minister, leading him away from her. She breathed a sigh of relief.

"We should go while they are busy with the teams," she muttered to Ron.

"Don't you want to see Krum?" Ron asked. He had a hand on her lower back as she edged between the crowd and the wall.

"I've seen him," Hermione said. "It's fine."

Ron nodded at Harry over Hermione's head and Harry broke off from their group while Hermione found the door and escaped into the hallway. For the first time in two hours, she took a deep breath. She hated people like the Bulgarian Minister. Even Kingsley was too much most days. Why they treated her differently than Harry and Ron, she couldn't fathom. Or rather, she could. It was the same way that the Muggle press treated famous actresses differently than they did actors. Plain old sexism. It was frustrating though. Hermione didn't have all the press people that famous actresses had. She just had to navigate the waters on her own and it was exhausting.

"Come on," Harry said from behind her. "Krum's going to meet us downstairs."

"Downstairs?" Hermione asked.

"I figured you would want to catch up without an audience," Harry grinned.

"Harry!" Hermione was completely taken aback at his thoughtfulness.

"Had to do something as a thank you for coming along with us," Ron said, bumping his shoulder into hers.

"I don't know what I would do without you two," Hermione said. She could feel her cheeks heating in her pleasure and surprise.

"We're just doing what you'd do for us," Harry laughed, slinging an arm around her shoulder. "Krum told us to meet him in the Bulgarian locker rooms."

"And how are we expected to get in there?" Hermione asked.

"I'm Harry Potter, love," Harry said with a saucy wink. "I have my ways."

Hermione snorted her laughter as Ron rolled his eyes. The many stairs she had climbed on the way to the box seemed less as they were going down them. She didn't know if it was because they were going down or if it was the company she had.

Harry was right, they were granted access to the Bulgarian locker rooms with way more ease than Hermione had expected.

Hermione hadn't been in any sort of Quidditch locker room before, but it looked like about what she expected based on the football locker rooms she'd seen in the Muggle media. There were a few rows of open cubbies that served as lockers, a handful of benches, and back toward one side was a shower room.

"This is it?" Ron asked. "I expected the World Cup locker rooms to be nicer than the ones at Hogwarts. These are practically copies."

"What'd you expect? Champagne filled tubs? Quidditch groupies?" Harry joked.

"Gross," Hermione commented absently.

A moment later the door banged open and Viktor came striding through. He greeted them all, but his eyes were clearly for Hermione alone.

"Right, well, we'll see you later, Hermione!" Harry called as he and Ron headed out the door. Hermione barely heard them. Viktor looked very good in his Quidditch uniform and she was quite impressed with how well he spoke English these days.

"It is so good to see you, Hermione," Viktor said. "It has been too many years." He looked her up and down and Hermione felt a little thrill run through her. She hoped he liked what he saw because she found she was quite enamored with what she saw before her.

"It has been too many years," Hermione agreed and stepped closer to him. "You look really good, Viktor."

Viktor looked pleased at the compliment and grinned down at her. "Not nearly as good as you do," he flirted.

Hermione huffed a low laugh under her breath. He was still terrible at flirting, but she didn't mind. It was endearing. Hermione stepped even closer, slowly, so he could back away if he wanted to, but he didn't. Instead, he settled his hands on her hips, drawing her even nearer him. She put her hands on her arms to steady herself. Viktor was taller than her, but not nearly as tall as Ron. Hermione appreciated that while she had to tilt her head back to look at him, she didn't have to crane. Even better, when she stood on her tiptoes to press her lips to his, he barely had to move his head down to meet her halfway.

The kiss was like nothing she had experienced with him as a teenager. Those kisses had been nice, but tentative. This kiss wasn't tentative in the least. And she wouldn't describe it as nice, but rather explosive. Suddenly, they couldn't keep their hands off of each other. Viktor had one hand buried in her hair, directing the kiss and the other was pressed against her lower back, pushing her hips into his. Hermione's hands had found their way to his waist and began pushing up his Quidditch sweater to get at the delicious skin beneath.

Before they could get too invested, the locker room door opened again and the rest of Viktor's teammates barged in. Hermione was embarrassed and buried her face into Viktor's chest so she wouldn't have to face any of them. There was a little catcalling, but Viktor put an end to it rather quickly. He invited Hermione back to his hotel and they left without Viktor even bothering to change. Hermione couldn't have expected her day to go this way, but she was definitely not complaining.

_**~Fin~**_


	23. The Motorbike Ride

**Created for Hermione's Haven Bingo 2019 Fest! This is for my O3 square which was the prompt: Accidental Stimulation. No beta, just Grammarly. If you love this (or hate it) please let me know about in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff.**

**Pairing: Hermione Granger/Sirius Black**

**Rating: M**

**Summary: Hermione takes an exhilarating ride on the back of Sirius's motorbike.**

* * *

**The Motorbike Ride**

* * *

The first time it happened, it was an accident. Hermione missed her dad, who was into motorbikes, so when Sirius invited her along for a ride, she jumped at the chance. The smell of Sirius's leather jacket, the wind through her hair, the roar of the machine between her legs. It reminded her of her childhood. And then it happened. They were idling at a traffic light when she shifted forward slightly and felt the tickle. Her denims were on the tighter side, not a style she usually wore, but it being laundry day, she squeezed into them anyway.

Then Sirius revved the engine and took off. The rumble below purred and Hermione's eyes fluttered as the feeling between her legs intensified. A swooping in her belly made her tighten her arms around Sirius' midsection. Unconsciously, she leaned further into him, tilting her hips. _Ah, right there_. It was just the right angle. Hermione began panting ever so slightly. It was both exhilarating and terrifying. The fact that she might orgasm from the rumble between her thighs.

"You alright!" Sirius shouted. His words almost taken by the wind before Hermione's ears could catch them.

"Perfect!" Hermione shouted back as she tilted her hips forward and buried her face into the back of his jacket. She inhaled the scent of the leather and could feel her nipples tighten in response. _Oh, Merlin, how would she ever face Sirius after this?_ Her hips began rocking almost of their own accord, and Sirius sped the bike up. Hermione's arms gripped his waist tighter, her hands somehow sneaking inside his unzipped jacket and gripping the t-shirt he wore beneath.

_So close…_ she panted some more and when the motorbike hit a bump in the road it was enough to send Hermione flying over the edge of her orgasm. She shuddered her way back down and missed the fact that Sirius was slowing the bike down. They came to a stop outside of a small park on a little-used street.

"So," Sirius said, removing his helmet.

"Oh, Merlin," Hermione groaned, burying her head in her hands. Sirius got off the bike, prompting Hermione to get off of it too. But she refused to look at him. How thoroughly embarrassing was this?

"I can't say that's ever happened before," Sirius said. Hermione was still refusing to look at him.

"Can we not?" Hermione asked. Her voice tight with trying to suppress her emotions.

"Er, well we ought to talk about it," Sirius said. "It's alright, kitten." Sirius tugged at her forearms lightly and Hermione found herself looking up in his grey eyes. She was sure her face was as red as a tomato. It certainly felt quite warm.

"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered. Even worse, a tear from her left eye spilled down her cheek. But before she could wipe it away, Sirius got to it first. This thumb was rough against the soft skin of her face.

"Nothing to be sorry for," Sirius replied. Then he grinned wickedly. "Although, next time, maybe I could join in?"

"Oh Godric," Hermione groaned and closed her eyes. Sirius's hand cupped her face gently and Hermione found her eyes fluttering open just as Sirius's face descended toward hers.

"Tell me to stop," he whispered.

Instead of responding, Hermione stood on her tiptoes and crushed her lips to his. The kiss was heated, almost explosive and Hermione found her arms wrapped as tightly around Sirius as his own arms were wrapped around her.

Moments later, as the heat from the kiss ebbed, Sirius pulled away, staring at her with those mercurial eyes again. "I could get used to that," he murmured.

Hermione felt her face heat once more, but before she could be too embarrassed, Sirius pressed his lips against hers again and she was swept away by their shared passion.

_**~Fin~**_


	24. Goodbye

**Created for Hermione's Haven Bingo 2019 Fest! This is for my O4 square which was the prompt: Tragedy. No beta, just Grammarly. If you love this (or hate it) please let me know about in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff.**

**Pairing: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley**

**Rating: T**

**Summary: Hermione and her children say goodbye.**

* * *

**Goodbye**

* * *

Hermione bit her tongue for what felt like the fifteenth time that day. At this rate, she wouldn't have a tongue by the end of the day. Not that it mattered, it's not like she would be able to eat anything at the wake. She hadn't eaten in three days. Not since Harry knocked on her door with the news.

"Mum, my feet hurt," Hugo said, tugging on her dress. Hermione smiled at him but knew that it didn't reach her eyes. He looked so handsome in his tiny dress robes. She picked him up and settled him on her left hip. Rose took her right hand and squeezed it. Rose, at seven, was trying to be so big and grown-up. So brave for Hermione. It was what Hermione needed. At least right now.

"Not my Ronald," Molly wailed again. And Hermione stifled the urge to sigh. Ron was _her_ husband. Her dead husband. And here Molly was wailing over his casket. It was…uncomfortable, to say the least.

"Hey," Harry said from beside her.

"Hey."

"You need anything?"

Hermione's throat closed and her eyes welled, but she swallowed hard and shook her head.

"Alright." Harry nodded. Hermione could see him from the corner of her eye and she wished she hadn't. He had tears streaming down his cheeks. Him crying was only going to set her off, so she turned to look at Rose. Still uncrying, although her eyes were red.

"I…" Rose stopped speaking. "I want to say bye to Daddy."

That almost did it. That almost broke Hermione, but she grit her teeth and swallowed hard again, willing her tears away.

"I've got it," Harry said. He moved forward swiftly and gathered Molly in his arms. Hermione caught the dark look he shot to Arthur who had stood by and did nothing. Hermione couldn't blame Arthur though, Molly was getting worse as she aged. If Hermione was in Arthur's shoes, she'd be sick of it too.

The crowd at the small wizarding cemetery in Ottery St Catchpole was dwindling and in a few moments, Harry and Ginny had cleared everyone out.

"Alright, Rosie, let's go say goodbye to Daddy," Hermione said as she and her children approached Ron's casket for the final time. She had no idea what her future held, all she knew now was the tragedy of her present.

_**~Fin~**_


	25. The Performance

**Created for Hermione's Haven Bingo 2019 Fest! This is for my O5 square which was the prompt: Remus Lupin/Sirius Black. No beta, just Grammarly. If you love this (or hate it) please let me know about in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff.**

**And this concludes all of the one-shots from this collection! I hope you enjoyed reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them! Thanks again to Hermione's Haven FB group for hosting such a fun event!**

**Pairing: Hermione Granger/Remus Lupin/Sirius Black**

**Rating: M**

**Summary: Hermione is set up by Sirius and Remus, but in the end, she finds she doesn't mind.**

* * *

**The Performance**

* * *

Hermione sighed in contentment. Both of her wizards were fast asleep, Remus had his arms wrapped around Hermione and Sirius had his arms wrapped around Remus. If you had told Hermione that she'd be here a year ago, she would have laughed in your face. In truth, the fact that both Remus and Sirius were even alive right now was a miracle in itself. Sirius had passed through the veil during Hermione's fifth year and Dumbledore had always told Harry that he was dead. It turned out that he wasn't dead. He was trapped. Hermione had worked endlessly to free him the year after the war. The day he fell out of the veil was still one of the best days of Hermione's life.

Remus wouldn't be here, but for the actions of Tonks. She'd told him just before she died, that he'd had a hard life. He deserved to live. Then she jumped in front of a killing curse meant for Remus. It took Sirius falling out of the veil for Remus to realize that Tonks' sacrifice was just that: Tonks'. He shouldn't feel guilty over something Tonks freely gave away.

At first, Hermione didn't believe Sirius or Remus when they separately expressed interest in her. They were all just roommates, living in Grimmauld Place. It was normal for feelings to blur a bit. Hermione had alternately thought she was in love with both Harry and Ron at different points in her life. Neither turned out to be the case, although she did love them both. But as friends, as brothers, nothing more.

And if she were completely honest with herself, both Sirius and Remus were a little emotionally stunted. They'd lived hard lives, harder than most, and she wasn't totally surprised when they latched on to her, as the only witch living in the house.

It took Sirius catching her off guard one evening before she figured out that perhaps her feelings toward Remus and Sirius weren't quite as platonic as she kept insisting.

* * *

_Six Months Ago_

"Kitten," Sirius drawled the moment he opened the door to the library. "I knew I'd find you here."

"How many times have I told you not to call me that?" Hermione said absently. It was a game between them. Sirius would call her kitten, and Hermione would remind him not to. "Besides, I'm always in the library, it's not as if you could have looked anywhere else." She hadn't even bothered to look up from the book she was reading.

Sirius didn't seem fazed, although Hermione noticed he had an unusual look of concentration on his face as he swept her feet to the side and sat at the end of the sofa, her feet settled onto his lap.

"Can I help you?" Hermione asked him, arching an eyebrow and finally looking up from her book.

"Mmm, no, but I think I can help you," Sirius grinned.

"I don't need any help," Hermione told him.

"Oh, but you're so tense," Sirius said and he picked up one of her bare feet, holding it in his hands, putting pressure on the bottom. Hermione's eyes fluttered of their own accord at his ministrations.

"Does this really work on women?" Hermione asked although she didn't pull her foot away. Or ask him to stop.

Sirius shrugged. "Sometimes."

He dropped one foot and moved onto the other, pressing into her arch and Hermione arched her back, barely biting back a moan.

"See, works for you," Sirius said evenly.

Hermione's eyes snapped open and she glared at him.

"Don't give me that look," Sirius pouted. "You like it." His grin was wicked as he swiftly pushed one of her legs over the back of the sofa. Suddenly, he was hovering over her, his lips almost touching her own. "Tell me to stop."

Hermione didn't even consider the ramifications of what she did next. She just did it. She grabbed the front of Sirius's shirt, pulling him to her. She lifted her head and planted her lips on his. Sirius groaned into the kiss, dropping down on top of her and Hermione wrapped both legs around his waist, holding him in place as she snogged him.

It didn't take long for them to be naked and for Sirius to be fucking her into the sofa.

When Remus showed up halfway through, it was Hermione who asked him to join in. Sirius was still pounding into her as Hermione turned her head and swallowed as much of Remus's large cock as she could take.

Remus came all over Hermione's chest and breasts and Sirius licked it up. It was then that Hermione understood that Sirius and Remus were already fucking. She'd been set up.

She found she didn't care as she arched her back and tumbled over the edge of her orgasm. The two of them made her come six more times that night. Six. How in the hell could she ever look back after a performance like that?

_**~Fin~**_


End file.
